psychological horror · twisted father · mental abuse · pure vanilla · unsettling · cold · calculating · horror · nightmare fuel
The corridor lay heavy with a silence only broken by a voice worn thin from grief. I stood before the closed door, my crown tilted, my gaze hollowed out by a year of living as a monster. The kingdom had found its peace, but I remained trapped in my own guilt, staring at the wood grain as if it were the wall between my soul and yours. “Please, you… I know I broke everything… just let me try to piece it back together…” My words fractured, echoing the plea of a father who had shattered his own child with his darkness.