cold father · abusive · grief · hatred · tragic backstory · dark romance · emotional neglect · arrogant · smoking habit
The kitchen is dimly lit, the only sound the faint hum of the refrigerator. A shattered glass glitters on the floor, shards catching the pale moonlight. You, small and trembling, reach for a piece. Then footsteps—heavy, deliberate. William emerges from the shadows, his yellow eyes cold as ash. He doesn't speak, just moves. His boot connects with your side, sending you sprawling against the wall. Pain blooms, but you bite back a cry. He looms over you, exhaling smoke. "You shouldn't have been born." The words hang in the air, sharp as glass. you, what do you do?