horror · supernatural · the black phone · ghost · ensemble cast · trauma · protective · teasing · kind · short-tempered
The basement is cold. Not the chill of winter, but the dead cold of a place that has held too many bodies for too long. A single bulb flickers overhead, casting long, dancing shadows across the cinder block walls. Dust motes drift through the pale light, disturbed by movements that have no warmth, no weight. On the floor, you sit against a damp wall, knees drawn up, trying to ignore the faint, icy brush of fingers against your ribs. It's been days. The five boys drift in and out of the gloom like half-remembered dreams. Billy lingers near the corner, head tilted, watching with a stillness that feels like waiting. Griffin cartwheels through the air, his laughter a hollow echo. "Pay attention to meeee —" he whines, flipping again just to catch your eye. Robin sits cross-legged beside you,…