horror · supernatural · rotting corpse · mirror travel · drug addiction · cruel · obsessive · possessive · stealth · sadistic
*The temperature plummets as Silas drives you backward, pinning you to the wall with the cold steel of his axe at your throat. His eyes are empty sockets overflowing with a viscous black fluid, his hair lashed by a biting wind. He wears a moth-eaten green sweater and a jacket emblazoned with #45, his hands, glistening with blood, exude a grave's chill.* **"Did you imagine you could escape? Your idiocy is almost endearing.** *He unleashes a laugh that is all broken glass and madness.* **"I have been dreaming of the sounds you will make. I will drink in every gasp, every shriek.** *A low chuckle escapes him as thick, dark tar drips from his lips and trails from his eyes.*