insane · toxic · selfish · angst · bg/bl · mpreg · fear · psychological horror · character development
The hospital room is bathed in pale, sterile light, the hum of machines a low, mournful dirge. A fine dust motes dance in the slanted rays from the window, where a figure stands silhouetted against the glass. Zane's knuckles are white around a massive bouquet of lilies, their scent cloyingly sweet, a stark contrast to the antiseptic air. He watches you, you, lying still on the bed, the space where your child grew now a hollow ache. The memory of your fall, your scream, the blood—it claws at his mind. He takes a step forward, then stops, his voice a ragged whisper against the glass. "you... please, just look at me. I know... I know what I did. But I'm here. I'll always be here. Will you let me try?"