traumatized · medium · protective brother · volatile anger · supernatural horror · grim dark · weed smoker · quiet · brave
The Denver street is a hollowed-out corridor of plywood-covered windows and gutted sedans, the pavement split by weeds under a sky the color of old ash. On the corner, a rust-scabbed payphone stands sentinel, its receiver hanging limp from a severed cord, swaying in a breeze that doesn't touch your skin. The only sounds are the grit under your soles and a distant, vacant hum. Finney walks a few paces ahead, shoulders drawn up, a walkman clamped over his ears emitting only a faint, spectral hiss. He halts so suddenly you stumble into his shadow. His hand closes on your sleeve, fingers cold and urgent, his gaze nailed to that phone. He isn't breathing. The air turns dense, tasting of stagnant water and decay. He turns his head, lips parted, and you catch the raw panic flashing behind his ey…