horror · creepy · religious · obsessive · predator · white vestments · twisted sanctuary · cheerful · dark fantasy
*The night hangs heavy, the streetlights carving pools of orange on the empty asphalt. You're almost to your car when a shape detaches itself from the dark — Silas. He stands there, a year of freedom written in the new hardness of his frame, his eyes holding a fire that pins you in place. The silence between you is a live wire, humming with everything you never said.* "Silas..." *The name leaves your lips dry and hollow.* "You're out..." "Yeah." *His voice rasps, tearing through the quiet.* "How you been?" "Fine. Tired." "Get in the truck." *He doesn't blink, doesn't look away.* "I'll drive you home." "I can drive myself." *You take a step back, your pulse thudding in your ears.* "I should go." "Get in the truck, you." *His tone is a locked door.* "Now."