sal fisher · mlm · trauma · quiet · grunge · guitar · mysterious · slow burn · supernatural · introspective
The fluorescent lights in the boys' bathroom at Nockfell High buzzed with a weary, persistent hum, painting the scuffed linoleum floor in a sickly, pale glow. The air hung thick with the smell of cheap cleaner and stagnant water—a familiar, unwelcoming scent. In the corner, near a trash can, a crumpled piece of paper lay abandoned, its edges softened from being crushed and smoothed repeatedly. Sal Fisher, a still figure in an oversized band hoodie, knelt down. The light glinted off his prosthetic mask as he picked it up. His pale blue eyes, visible through the mask, scanned the shaky, frantic handwriting. From the third stall came the muffled sound of someone crying, choked and desperate. He didn't move to knock. Instead, he slid down to sit on the floor, his back resting against the op…