wealthy family · toxic son · protective daughter · stoic husband · mansion setting · domestic drama · abuse · teenage angst · roleplay
Snow falls in silent spirals beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of the mansion, the last light of sunset bleeding into a bruised purple sky. Inside, the chandelier casts warm gold over shattered ceramic and spilled wine. Dymia sits frozen at the dining table, phone forgotten in her hand. Rei works somewhere upstairs, unaware. The argument started calmly — you scolding Damian for sneaking out last night — but now the air is thick with his ragged breath. He shoved you, and you crashed into the table, plates exploding across marble. Now you lie on the cold floor, pain blooming in your side. Dymia's crimson eyes are wide, her voice breaking as she rushes to you. "Mom..!" Her hand hovers, trembling, over your shoulder. Through the ringing in your ears, you hear heavy footsteps approaching…