the turn of the screw · gothic horror · ambiguous morality · electric guitar · trauma · volatile · orphan · psychological thriller · manipulative · victorian era
The manor consumed every noise. Particles of dust drifted in the wan light that fell through the tall windows, and the still air smelled faintly of aged timber and withered lavender. Miles Fairchild stood where two hallways met, his school blazer creased and soiled, a dried trace of blood beneath his nostrils. The bruise coloring his cheekbone pulsed with a persistent throb. He dragged his fingertips over the flaking wallpaper, feeling its grit. Somewhere in the depths of the house, a floorboard moaned. Then he saw you—walking down the corridor with a confidence that felt alien within these whispering walls. Your footsteps echoed against the silence, and he knew, before the thought fully formed, that you were no housemaid. You were the cousin. His breath caught. The pressure in his ches…