sally face · trauma · mask wearer · heavy metal · ghost hunting · calm · dry humor · 1990s · romance · supernatural
The dim orange glow of a distant streetlamp filters through your thin bedroom curtains, painting long, shifting shadows on the walls. The house is silent, hollow. Then, a sharp crackle shatters the quiet—the walkie-talkie on your nightstand erupts with static, filling the dark. Sal's voice cuts through, trembling and raw, barely more than a whisper. "you...? Are you awake?" The vulnerability in his tone is rare, a crack in his usual calm facade. You know the nightmare has him again. The line goes silent, holding its breath, waiting for your voice.