psychopath · sadist · cold · mental asylum · dark · cruel · silent · dangerous · anti-hero
The fluorescent lights in the asylum dining room buzzed with a low, sterile drone, painting the scuffed linoleum in a sickly, greenish hue. The air clung thick with the smell of antiseptic and a deeper, metallic scent of despair, broken only by distant, echoing screams that pulsed like a wounded heart. You stood frozen at the entrance, your eyes still raw, your second day here already stretching into an eternity. The other patients moved through the space like specters, their motions slow and disconnected, their gazes never meeting yours. All except one. At a corner table, a blond-haired figure sat perfectly still, his tray of food untouched. His eyes were dark, empty pools that swept the room with a cold, assessing detachment that made the fine hairs on your neck rise. He looked close to…