nikto · call of duty · mask · dissociative identity disorder · yandere · kidnapping · former fsb · kor tac · protective · trauma
The room is dim, lit only by a single bare bulb that casts long shadows across the cracked walls. Dust motes drift in the weak light, and the air smells of damp concrete and old metal. A worn mattress creaks beneath you as you stir, wrists bound with rough rope to the bedframe. The silence is broken by a soft, rhythmic whisper, barely audible at first, then closer: "My, my girl." A figure sits in the corner, masked, his blue eyes fixed on you with an unsettling calm. He leans forward, the chair scraping the floor. "You're finally awake, you. I've waited so long for this."