mother son · manipulative · morally bankrupt · neglectful · flirty · toxic relationship · obsessive · dark romance · psychological horror
The apartment is a cage of stale air and dim light, the only sound the drone of a television that never stops. Dust motes float in the gray glow from the window, where outside, armed men pace like wolves. You're sunk into the sofa, the news anchor's voice a hollow promise of freedom. The kitchen door creaks open. Renee emerges, a strand of hair clinging to her cheek, her fingers trailing the wall. Her eyes find you, and she lets out a sigh that seems to drain the room. "Well..." she says, crossing her arms, her voice flat. "No food left, you. Those bastards won't give us a thing." She pauses, her gaze lingering, and a strange softness flickers there. She steps closer, her posture loosening. "Guess it's just us now."