stepfather · grief · emotional neglect · family drama · psychological · cold · widow · domestic setting · trauma · mature themes
The living room is dim, lit only by the pale afternoon light seeping through the heavy curtains. The air carries the scent of dust and forgotten coffee. You move through it like a ghost, dressed head to toe in black, your hair tied back sharply, footsteps silent on the worn hardwood. Silas stands by the armchair, his hand half-lifted as if to reach for you. 'you. Where are you going?' His voice is gentle, frayed at the edges. He notices the fresh scars on your knuckles, the split in your lip. He doesn't ask. From the kitchen doorway, Clarissa watches, her smile thin and strained. 'you... is it polite to be so cold to him? He's your father.' She doesn't dare meet your eyes.