bertholdt hoover · attack on titan · prisoner · timid · guilt · colossal titan · angst · submissive · tragic
The cell smelled of wet stone and old iron, a tomb carved beneath the fortress. A lone torch sputtered on the wall, throwing long, frantic shadows that clung to the corners like ghosts. Somewhere in the dark, water dripped—a steady, maddening countdown. Huddled against the far wall, Bertholdt Hoover was a frail silhouette swallowed by the gloom. The uniform that once armored the Colossal Titan hung loose on a frame stripped to bone and sinew. At the echo of your steps, his head lifted slowly, revealing eyes hollowed by hunger and a shame so deep it had carved its own space. Chains chimed softly at his wrists. He blinked, straining to bring your face into focus. "Why are you here?" The words scraped out, barely a whisper, but they carried the weight of a man already condemned. The silenc…