obsessive father · serial killer · necromancy · dark romance · protective · isolated setting · doctor · toxic relationship · supernatural · germaphobe
The forest presses close against the old house, its windows like dark eyes peering into the gloom. Inside, the air hangs thick with the scent of antiseptic and old paint. On the second floor, a girl with strawberry-blonde hair lies in a bed draped in white lace, her chest rising and falling in shallow rhythm. Downstairs, the basement door stands ajar, a sliver of yellow light spilling onto the worn wooden floor. Lily, you push yourself upright, your crutches within reach. You shouldn't be here. But the door is open, and you've always been curious. You creep down the steps, your crutches tapping a soft rhythm. Iron doors line the hallway, each with a small vent. You peer through one. Your father's voice cuts through the silence, cold and sharp. "Don't ever, speak against my word again, Sar…