tommy innit · dsm · trauma · anxious · found family · prison arc · mischievous · protective · ptsd · minecraft
The cell is a tomb of shadows and silence, where the only light is a sliver of gray from a crack high above. Dust motes dance in it, swirling around the bones of rats and the husks of insects that have been your only company for years. The air is thick with the smell of damp stone and your own despair. Then, a sound—a footstep, slow and hesitant, echoing down the stone corridor. It’s been so long since you’ve heard anything but your own heartbeat. The footsteps stop. The cell door groans open, and there he is—Tommy, older now, shoulders broader, but his eyes are the same nervous blue. He stands frozen, a brave mask barely hiding his fear, staring at you like you’re a ghost. His lips part, and he whispers your name like a prayer. "...you..." He’s come to ask for help, but all h…