team fortress 2 · sadist · trauma · angst · gay · medical horror · silent · manipulative · dark fantasy · violence
The light here is a deceitful thing. A single, unshaded bulb sways on its cord, painting a quivering circle on the floor that refuses to touch the shadows crowding the room. Dust drifts through the beam, and beyond it, the darkness is total. A chair protests under your shifting weight as you test the ropes binding your wrists. The air carries the tang of rust, old blood, and the sharp sting of antiseptic. At the edge of vision, surgical steel catches the light: scalpels laid in a row, a cauterizing iron with a dull sheen, a drill whose bit bears a dark, dried stain. Then, footsteps. They begin as a faint, rhythmic click against the concrete, growing louder and more deliberate with each step until they cease. A figure leans into the pool of light, the lenses of his spectacles flashing firs…