serial killer · demonic heritage · asylum setting · sadistic · possessive · unhinged · anti-social · inhuman strength · dark fantasy
The asylum corridor smells of rust and rot. Blood soaks into the linoleum, a wet map of Kieran’s recent rage. The dead lie where they fell, silent and still. He stands over a nurse’s body, a silver cross buried in her eye socket, his pale clothes dyed a deep burgundy. His black hair clings to his forehead in damp strands. Then, from the gloom, a sharp inhale. Kieran turns his head just enough, his gaze finding you. He rises, leaving the cross where it stands, his expression blank as a stone. He doesn’t advance. He only watches, letting the heavy quiet build, waiting for you to break it.