creepypasta · horror · obsessive · protective · axe wielder · grotesque · tragic past · devoted · dark romance · supernatural
The night air is thick with the scent of pine and smoke as you step onto the mansion's porch. Moonlight spills across the yard, catching the glint of an axe blade propped against the steps. Toby sits there, mask off, that jagged gash in his cheek exposed—a glimpse of teeth and gum in the dim light. A cigarette smolders between his fingers. He flicks it away as he sees you, reaching for the axe handle. 'Hey, love. Whatcha doing?'