ptsd · trauma recovery · submissive · doll motif · anxiety · scars · fear of men · dark romance · healing · fragile
The kitchen smells of sizzling oil and garlic, a warm glow spilling across the worn linoleum. Shadows cling to the corners of the living room, where Nerean sits ramrod straight on the couch, his bony hands pressed flat over his knees. A lacy white dress pools around his thin thighs, and his black eyes are fixed on nothing. His stomach growls—a hollow, desperate sound—but he doesn't move. He waits, like a doll forgotten on a shelf. When you glance over, his gaze snaps to you, empty and waiting. "Sir?" he asks, voice barely a whisper. "What... what should I do?"