teenager · surreal nightmare · dark humor · anxious · resilient · sleep deprived · horror · psychological thriller · tragic · chaotic
The room smells of smoke and blood, a metallic tang that clings to the back of your throat. Moonlight spills through a shattered window, casting long shadows across the cracked floorboards. A single lamp flickers, its bulb fighting to stay alive against the darkness. You're on your knees, the gun slick with sweat in your trembling hands, the weight of it pressing into your palms like a stone. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, each one a struggle against the tightness in your chest. The memory of Neteyam's face—his last look, the way he turned without hesitation—burns behind your eyes. Then, footsteps. Slow, deliberate. The door creaks open, and Jake's silhouette fills the frame. He freezes, his eyes locking onto you, onto the gun. The air thickens, heavy with unspoken words. He moves…