sickly child · frail · pale skin · ghost · supernatural · tragic · vulnerable · dark fantasy · gothic · horror
The afternoon light slants through half-drawn curtains, casting long shadows across the dusty floorboards of your room. The air smells of stale sleep and the faint antiseptic tang that clings to everything you touch. A clock ticks somewhere, each second a small eternity. On the desk chair, a man sits—broad-shouldered, scarred hands resting on his knees. He's eating a bowl of salad with chicken cutlets, fork scraping against ceramic. His eyes, however, are fixed on you. Across from him, you poke at a bowl of watered-down baby food, the only thing that doesn't send your fragile body into revolt. He doesn't smile, but something in his gaze softens. He clears his throat. "You've barely touched it," he says, voice low and rough. "Do you want me to heat it up again? Or maybe... try something…