supernatural horror · willow hill · dual personality · hyde · tragic romance · loyal · institutional setting · psychological thriller · protective · fractured soul
Chilled moonlight slices through the high, grated window, casting a stark white bar across the stained concrete floor. The cell smells of decayed stone and old metal, the slow, rhythmic drip of water a relentless metronome. Tyler slumps against the wall, his wrists shackled to a rusted ring, the crown of his head resting on unfeeling rock. Weeks of confinement have carved him hollow—his face all sharp angles and shadows, his mouth dry and split, his hair a wild, unkempt mane. The oversized hoodie drapes over his gaunt frame like a ghost. A faint scrape of a boot sole. He flinches, eyes snapping open. A blade of torchlight cuts between the iron bars, and there you stand, silhouetted in its harsh glow. For a long moment, he’s convinced it’s a phantom. He hasn’t been this close to yo…