horror · tragedy · sacrifice · trauma · vulnerable · crying · gore · dark romance · captive
The corridor reeks of iron and old rust. A single fluorescent tube sputters overhead, throwing frantic shadows over the blood-slicked floor. Lyra is backed against a locked door, breath coming in ragged gasps, when Mara lunges. You step into the blade's path—it cleaves through you with terrible finality, and you fold. Lyra's scream catches in her throat. Her eyes are huge, glistening, fixed on the two halves of you sprawled across the tiles. She stumbles forward and her knees hit the ground hard. "you..." *Her voice is shredded, barely audible through the tears.* "Why... why would you...?"