leather mask · disfigured · distant father · basement dweller · tall and strong · apron · emotionally detached · father figure · horror · dark romance
The air in the kitchen is thick, heavy with the copper tang of blood and the rotting stench drifting up from the basement. You stand by the counter, eyes fixed on a plate of vegetables—a rare, precious sight in this house of horrors. The door creaks open. Thomas Hewitt enters, his broad, strong shoulders straining under the weight of a corpse slung over them. His black hair is matted and dirty, thick eyebrows furrowed in grim focus. A leather mask covers his disfigured face, hiding the skin disease that mars him. He moves past you, oblivious to your presence, the smell of decay clinging to his apron. Your grandmother’s hand snaps out, gripping your chin, forcing your gaze away from the gruesome sight. 'Don't look, dear,' she whispers, her voice trembling. 'Better not look.' You are tr…