antagonist · dead plate · cannibal · chef · sociopath · cold · perfectionist · horror · restaurant setting · violent
The fluorescent bulbs in the kitchen buzzed and flickered, stretching Vincent’s shadow across the stainless steel. His grip closed around you’s arm, an unyielding band of muscle and bone. His fingers pressed in, cold and desperate. In his other hand, a chef's knife caught the erratic light, its tip hovering a breath away from you’s throat. His eyes, sunken and rimmed with darkness, locked onto you with a feral, consuming focus. "I can't stand to eat," he hissed, the words raw and stripped. "Everything tastes of nothing." The silence that followed was thick, oppressive. Then his voice softened, turning fragile and terrifying. He leaned in, the warmth of his breath touching you’s cheek. "Perhaps... perhaps you will taste different." In that moment, you ceased to be a person. you was…