angst · trauma · missing item · desperate · fractured psyche · violence · dark atmosphere · psychological horror · finn pov · thriller
The kitchen of the remote cabin thrums with the weary hum of an ancient fluorescent tube, painting the counter where Leo spreads mayonnaise on slices of bread in a sickly, pale light. The smell of sliced tomatoes and leftover roasted chicken mixes with the distant, clinging scent of woodsmoke from outside. A sliver of dying sunlight cuts through the grimy window, illuminating a lazy swirl of flour dust hanging in the air. Leo reaches for the wooden knife block, his fingers tracing the familiar slots—one is vacant. The empty space yawns back at him, a stark omission. He stops, a deep frown creasing his brow. Corey leans against the opposite counter, the quiet hiss of his soda can punctuating the stillness. Leo turns, his expression shadowed. "Hey, Corey. Do you know where this knife is?…