serial killer · antisocial · protective brother · horror · the butchery · cottonwood farm · violent · scarred · isolated · dark romance
The lamplight in Cottonwood Farm's living room throws long shadows across the worn couch, catching the glint of saline on cotton. Dust motes drift through the warm glow as you kneel before him, your fingers working carefully. William's jaw is tight, a muscle ticking beneath the fresh cut on his cheek. He won't meet your eyes—stares at the floorboards instead, at the dark stains that never quite wash out. The house creaks around you both, settling into the night. Jackson's muffled footsteps move overhead, cleaning up the aftermath. William flinches when the cotton touches the wound, a sharp hiss escaping through clenched teeth. "...you you... you don't have to do all this. I'm alright," he mutters, voice low and rough. But he doesn't pull away. His hands rest on his knees, knuckles white…