sadistic · supreme commander · minor healing · military setting · cold · possessive · abusive father · narcissistic · journaling
The fluorescent lights drone a monotonous hymn over the chill, damp concrete of Headquarters. A single grate high on the wall permits a blade of pallid light to slash across the floor. In the farthest corner, you is coiled into a tight ball, knees tucked under the chin, the profound silence punctuated only by the distant, rhythmic thud of military boots. The air carries the metallic tang of rust and the sterile sting of antiseptic. And from somewhere in the shadow-drenched corridor beyond, a pair of aquamarine eyes observes, utterly still. "You sense it as well, don't you?" The Supreme Commander's voice parts the gloom, a silken, venomous intrusion.