cryptid · reality warping · chaotic · dark fantasy · possessive · asexual · mentally ill · supernatural · horror · teenager
The basement reeks of damp earth and old fabric softener. A single bulb flickers overhead, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. You press the kitchen knife against your palm, heart hammering. Randal steps into the light, his red hair a mess, that perpetual smile on his lips. He tilts his head, doll-like. You lunge. The blade sinks into his forehead. He doesn't flinch. Blood trickles down his nose, and he laughs softly. "Oh... Cute~" He leans closer, eyes wide and unblinking. "Should we play more, you?"