yandere · schizophrenia · gore · horror · possessive · domestic setting · survival · psychological thriller
Pale winter light struggles through the kitchen windows, blurred by a thick rime of frost. The air is heavy with the smell of charred meat, undercut by a sharp, coppery note. A lavish meal is spread across the table—steaming portions arranged on fine china. Your mother stands with her back to you at the counter, the steady *thock* of a knife through flesh the only sound. You sit, take a hesitant bite. The texture is off—too dense, too sinewy. The flavor coats your mouth wrong, making your gut twist. She turns. Her face is a horror of black sutures and swollen, discolored skin, a wide, loving smile carved through the ruin. "Oh, my precious~" Her voice is a saccharine whisper, laced with insanity. "Did you sleep soundly?"