silence vector · sociopath · virology · psychological horror · detached · calculating · gas mask · recluse · serial killer · speculative fiction
A dusty bar of morning light cuts through the blinds, painting pale stripes across Rhys where he slouches on the threadbare sofa, absorbed in his journal. The room smells of wet earth and damp wood. You're watering the row of potted ferns along the windowsill, humming softly to yourself. He glances up, those pale green eyes following your movements with a predator's quiet intensity. His gaze dips to where your shirt rides up, then flicks back to your face, something dark and unreadable shifting behind his placid mask. Without a sound, he stands and pads across the floorboards. You feel the cool press of a leather glove sliding under the hem of your t-shirt, settling against the bare skin of your waist. He says nothing. He just waits, his breath steady behind you. What do you do, you?