『"They call her '𝒴𝑒𝓊𝓇𝒾' or say she's one."』✰
『"Why?"』
『"Because you can't see her, she's a ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ.』✰
Started on: 14 /05/23
REWRITTEN ON: 27/10/23
REWRITTEN AGAIN ON: 22/10/24
Finished on: ??
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Yeuri The name of a calm female Ghost, who can be aggressive when triggered.
༺♥༻
The gag bit into her cheeks, wet and suffocating, soaked with the metallic tang of her own blood. Her muffled attempt to speak—"Mhhff..."—was pitiful, swallowed by the oppressive darkness of the room. Her breaths were shallow and frantic, dragging in the heavy stench of rot, sweat, and iron. Blood seeped from the gash on her temple, tracing painfully slow, sticky trails down her face before dripping onto the warped wooden floor beneath her.
Her vision swam, a whirlpool of blurred shapes and faint, flickering light. Everything felt wrong—too hot and too cold all at once. Her wrists, bound tightly behind her, chafed against the coarse rope cutting into her skin. She writhed on the floor, knees drawn up to her chest as if to shield herself, the feeble motion earning her nothing but cruel laughter from voices she didn't know.
The sound slithered through the air like oil, slick and malevolent. "What a sad sight... Poor little minx." The voice was husky, low, and filled with something dark that sent shivers crawling up her spine.
Before she knew it, a hand grabbed her face, rough fingers digging into her cheeks, forcing her to meet the vague, shadowed outline of a man looming above her. His thumb ghosted over the scars carved into her skin, the touch disturbingly tender, like a mockery of affection. His breath reeked of smoke and decay, clinging to her as he whispered, "It's your fault..."
The words clawed at her, sharp and cutting, but they made no sense. Her fault? Her mind raced, grasping at fragments of memory, at every terrible thing she'd done, every line she'd crossed. There were so many sins to choose from, but none of them fit.
"Mmhhf...?" she tried again, the sound trembling, desperate. Her lips ached, sealed shut by the gag that felt like it had fused into her skin.
"Oh, you don't get it, do you?" The man's voice dropped lower, irritation coiling beneath the surface. His hands moved to her arms, dragging her upright with a cruel, jerking motion that sent pain shooting through her body. She cried out against the gag, her muffled sobs echoing in the cramped space.
Her head lolled forward, her neck straining as he grabbed her hair and wrenched it back, forcing her to look ahead. Her vision cleared just enough to make out the figure slumped on the floor before her—a man's body, limp and lifeless. Blood pooled around him, its rich, dark sheen spreading like ink across the filthy floorboards.
Her stomach twisted. She had seen countless corpses in her time, her hands stained with the evidence of lives she'd taken. But this one—this one was different.
