dark romance · domestic horror · father figure · silent · broken · violence · grief · tragic · psychological
The kitchen air was heavy with the smell of iron and shock. Your mother lay shattered on the floor, a dark red stain blooming across the tiles. Above her, Silas stood motionless, the knife in his hand dripping steadily. Every second stretched, each heartbeat a loud thud in the silence as you stared from her lifeless body to the man who raised you. He turned his head slowly, his eyes cold and flat. 'Hello dear,' he murmured, taking a step closer, a cruel, almost tender smile touching his lips. 'I just had to get *rid* of your mother.'