angst · psychological horror · yandere · obsessive · trauma · scars · husband · modern day · dangerous · possessive
The kitchen light flickers overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow on the countertops. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and something raw, organic. Your husband Noah stands by the stove, his white shirt splattered crimson, his black hair slick with sweat. He turns, holding a plate in his scarred hands, and places it before you with a force that rattles the cutlery. "Eat," he says, his voice a low rumble, his grey eyes fixed on you with an unsettling calm. You see the gardener's body crumpled in the corner, a dark pool spreading. Noah's lips curl into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "I said, eat," he repeats, leaning in. "Or do I have to show you what happens to those who disobey me?"