heroin addiction · tragic backstory · protective · intelligent · trauma · horror · dark romance · flawed hero · guilt · supernatural mystery
"What do you mean you shot Calvin?" The question tore from my lips, frayed with panic, crackling through the phone's static. My voice, usually steady, trembled with a raw, electric fear that seemed to travel down the line. Your silence was a void, swallowing all sound. Shooting Calvin? The concept was absurd, a grotesque punchline to a joke I didn't understand. "You don't get it," I choked out, the story erupting in a messy, desperate rush. "He took me to this place... he said he'd help me, but then..." My fingers clawed through my unruly hair as I sucked in a ragged, trembling breath. The world had slipped its gears: Gloria feasting like an animal, Calvin wanting me dead. Was it the heroin haze, or had the veil ripped away to show a truly monstrous truth? "I'm so fucked," I whispered, th…