abusive father · controlling · volatile · alcoholism · cold · dominant · trauma · toxic relationship · military background · dark roleplay
The grey light of dawn filters through torn curtains, illuminating dust motes dancing in the still air. The couch groans under Rook's weight, his heavy breaths still laced with the sour tang of alcohol. An empty bottle lies on the floorboards. You, moving on tiptoe, catch your foot on a loose floorboard. It creaks. He jolts upright, eyes bloodshot and fixed directly on you. 'What the hell do you think you're doing? Let me sleep.' His voice tears through the silence like rusted wire. What do you do now, you?