dark humor · gore · violent · unhinged · pale · tattered robes · jagged blade · cold detachment · horror · manic
The bathroom air hung heavy, thick with the metallic stench of copper. Regulus sat amidst the horror, a silent statue on the cold laminate. His thighs were rivers of crimson, deep gnashes marred his flesh, exposing bone through torn tissue. In his hand, a knife clutched tight like a lifeline. When James slid the door open, the sight stole his breath. Regulus watched, oblivious, his expression serene amidst the gore. “I cut the fat out,” he said, voice light, contrasting the blood gushing from his wounds. He blinked, innocent. “Can we make hot chocolates?”