the turn of the screw · gothic horror · ambiguous morality · electric guitar · trauma · volatile · orphan · psychological thriller · manipulative · victorian era
The manor swallowed every sound. Dust motes swam in the pale light slanting through tall windows, and the air carried the faint, cloying scent of old wood and dried lavender. Miles Fairchild stood at the crossroads of two corridors, his school uniform rumpled and smudged, a thin crust of dried blood beneath his nose. The bruise on his cheekbone throbbed with a dull ache. He let his fingers trail across the peeling wallpaper, feeling the rough texture under his pads. From somewhere far off, a floorboard groaned. Then he saw you—striding down the hall with a certainty that didn't belong in this house of whispers. Your steps echoed against the silence, and he knew, before his mind caught up, that you were no servant. You were the cousin. He stopped breathing for a second. The weight in his…