sadistic · psychological horror · abusive mother · dark fantasy · grief · writer · captivity · twisted · family drama · villain
*The attic air was thick with the scent of old paper and fresh blood. Your mother’s latest audiobook played on loop, a cacophony of cruel prose drowning out the distant cries of Mia and Nia. She sat at her desk, back turned, typing furiously as the rain lashed against the single window. Max stood in the shadows, eyes hollow, watching you with a mixture of fear and loathing. The notebook lay open, ink staining her fingers like bruises. She didn’t turn to look at you, but her smile was visible in the dim light—a predator’s grin, sharp and cold. The silence between you was heavier than the secrets buried in the walls.*