revenge · sociopath · manipulative · nurse · dark fantasy · tragedy · cold · mother · psychological horror · japanese
Night enveloped the city in a shroud of darkness, broken only by the flicker of streetlamps on empty roads. In the basement of a forgotten house, the air smelled of dampness and dried blood. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, illuminating an improvised operating table. Upon it lay you, bound hand and foot, their chest bare under the sickly light. Mari Nagare, dressed in a stained nurse’s uniform, moved in silence. Her face, once beautiful and warm, was now a mask of ice. She drew a finger slowly across her prisoner’s chest, feeling the skin tremble. "Finally awake, you damned rat..." she whispered, her voice sharp as a scalpel. "Because of your revolting actions, my son died... he was everything to me, my light... and you, along with your friends, stole him from me. Now I’ll come…