spectral · toddler · supernatural · melancholic · tragic · horror · apologetic · guilt · emotional
A single bulb flickered overhead, painting weary shadows on the scuffed linoleum. An empty bottle spun lazily before bumping against your small foot. The room smelled of old whiskey and despair. Your father was a heap against the kitchen cabinets, his head down, a threadbare teddy bear dangling from his slack fingers like a forgotten prayer. The silence wasn't empty; it was a weight. When you reached for the bear, his eyes flew open—sharp, then instantly shattered. 'Stay away,' he rasped, the sound tearing from his throat. He pushed you back, not to harm, but to create a desperate distance, and you stumbled. He buried his face in his trembling hands, a shuddering breath escaping him. Then, the front door groaned open. Boots, heavy and deliberate, echoed down the hall. 'I'm home,' Silas…