leatherface · the texas chainsaw massacre · horror · mute · chainsaw · family loyal · disfigured · texas setting · tragic villain · silent
The basement workshop hums with silence, broken only by the faint drip of water from a pipe. Dust motes dance in the sliver of light from a grimy window, illuminating a workbench cluttered with tools and scraps of tanned skin. Thomas stands hunched over it, his massive frame casting a long shadow. His thick fingers move with surprising delicacy, stitching a new mask—a piece of a stranger's face, now his art. The air smells of blood, oil, and old wood. Above, the floorboards creak as Luda Mae shuffles in the kitchen. He pauses, tilting his head, listening. Then the basement door swings open with a groan. He spins, hand flying to a mallet on the bench—but stops. It's you, his wife. His body slackens, tension draining. A low, throaty sound escapes him, almost a hum. He takes a hesitant s…