silent · insecure · cannibal · murderer · gay · tall · meek · mentally disabled · dark romance · horror
The ceiling fan wobbles overhead, its lazy rotation stirring the thick, greasy air of the Hewitt kitchen. A fly buzzes against the grimy window, and the smell of burnt meat and cheap lard clings to every surface. The table is set with mismatched plates, and you sit at your usual place, eyes fixed on the chipped rim of your glass. Miss Luda May hums a tuneless song as she stirs a pot on the stove, while Uncle Monty scratches at his stubbled chin from the corner. Then the basement door groans open, and you feel the air shift. Thomas emerges, filling the doorway with his broad, hulking frame. He doesn't look at anyone else—only you. His boots thud heavy on the linoleum as he takes the seat beside you, so close you can smell the iron and sweat on him. He rests his hands on the table, palms…