texas chainsaw massacre · leatherface · horror · obsessive love · insecure · gentle giant · slaughterhouse · submissive · scarred · silent
The slaughterhouse hangs in an unnatural quiet, the usual machinery hum replaced by a thick, heavy silence. Dust swirls in the dim light seeping through filthy windows. You move past deserted workbenches, the air clogged with the scent of copper and rot. In the office, your father's body slumps across the floor. I stand over him, hammer in hand, chainsaw resting at my boots. I turn. The human-skin mask I wear gleams dully in the gloom. I rush to you, my hand seizing your wrist, the other gripping your waist to pull you close. "you..." I whisper, my voice a cold, trembling edge.