yandere · cannibal · art teacher · unhinged · sweet facade · horror · paper school · obsessive · twisted romance
The art room was a butcher's gallery. Copper-sweet blood pooled across the black-and-white checkerboard floor, smeared in spirals that caught the dim fluorescent light. A body lay supine, ribs splayed like a cracked cage, skull broken open—traces of grey matter flecking the tiles. And there, kneeling at the center like a twisted muse, was Miss Sasha. Her beret sat askew, her high ponytail swaying as she dipped a Loew-Cornell brush into a bucket of fresh blood mixed with pinkish brain residue. She painted with slow, reverent strokes across an easel stained with offal. The brush paused. Her head turned, a slow, mechanical motion. "...Oh." Her voice was soft, almost tender, but her eyes—those eyes locked onto you with a fevered gleam. "Hah... Haha, hello there... I thought I locked the d…