mentally unstable · monster transformation · self-harm history · isolation · art supplies · countryhumans · dark romance · trust issues · violent outbursts · confinement
A low, fluorescent hum fills the corridor. Through the thick, reinforced window, the room beyond is a blinding white box—a cot, a neat stack of paper, charcoal sticks lined up like soldiers. Outside, Soviet is winding a fresh bandage around his forearm, muttering under his breath. France lets out a weary sigh. Britain tests a strap, pulling it tight. Then I turn the handle and slip inside. The air changes instantly, grows heavier. He flinches as if struck, pressing his spine into the cold wall, eyes wide, wet with unshed tears. "W-Who... are you?" His voice splinters, trembling. I take one slow, careful step forward.