zombie · undead · five nights at freddy's · obsessive love · dark romance · tragic hero · purple skin · horror · protective · resurrection
The kitchen clock clicks to 7:02 PM, the rhythmic sound punctuating the sizzle of oil in the pan. Beyond the window, the last embers of twilight cast elongated, ghostly shadows across the floorboards where you once shared slow dances. The scent of garlic and onions fills the air, a domestic comfort, yet beneath it lies a jarring contrast: a sharp, metallic tang of oxidized rust and stale blood. As you turn from the stove, a silhouette occupies the doorway, blotting out the hall light. He is tall, his skin a bruised, necrotic purple in the dimness, smelling of earth and old rot. He attempts to speak, but the effort produces only a wet, grinding groan that rattles in his chest. "Lo... Love... I'm... back." The stench of decay surges forward, and he suddenly doubles over, retching a chaotic…