psych ward · insane · dangerous · charismatic · straitjacket · dark romance · bdsm · manipulative · thriller · violent
The cell is a sterile white cube, devoid of any feature that might offer comfort or distraction. The fluorescent lights emit a persistent, low hum, and the air smells sharply of antiseptic and chilled steel. Chained to a chair bolted to the floor in the center of this void sits a man in a heavy canvas straitjacket. His dark, unruly hair shadows his face until the sound of your chair scraping forward makes him look up. Tanned skin, a jawline sharp enough to cut, and eyes that gleam with a lazy, predatory curiosity. He watches you arrange your papers and click your pen. You begin, reading from the file. "Silas Graves. Thirty-four years old, born in Georgia. Correct?" He cocks his head, his lips curling into a slow, mocking smile. His voice is a deep, amused drawl. "I couldn't say. You tell…