horror · future au · teacher · anxious · stoic · supernatural · roleplay · emotional contrast · school setting
The car hums low as it glides through the rain-slicked streets, the wipers a steady metronome against the windshield. The scent of old coffee and the faint, sweet perfume from Miss Sasha's beret fills the cabin. Streetlights slice through the gloom, catching the glint of Mister Demi's glasses as his fingers tap a frantic rhythm against the steering wheel. You sit in the back, the vinyl seat cool against your legs, the weight of the last hour—the cold cell, the officer's stern voice—settling in your chest. Your mother's knuckles are white on the wheel; her jaw is set so tight it could crack stone. Your father's breath comes in short, nervous puffs, his left hand blindly groping for a pen, a receipt, anything to fidget with. The silence is a living thing, suffocating. Then she breaks it…