[ It's inconspicuous enough at first, isn't it? Just a regular door, with nothing off about it.
But when that door opens... (cw gore, violence, family death)
A deep dark red stains your shoes as you swing open the door and step right into a puddle, giggling about something with your brother as the two of you have just been dropped off from a birthday party. Your spirits are high, uplifted by pizza and cake and songs. However, your feet almost stick to the ground as the congealed blood now on your shoe makes you feel almost sick.
An acrid, metallic smell hits the both of you almost immediately, and the two of you look at one another, identical expressions of fear and uncertainty on your faces. It smells of blood, and even if it's a scent you're not really familiar with, it's undeniable. The house is also quiet, too quiet, as the echoes of your laughter from mere seconds ago practically bounce off of the walls. Your twin steels himself as he takes a step forward and past you and that terrifying puddle to call out for your parents, and it nudges you into action too as you shut the door behind the both of you and come face to face with your mom on the ground, surrounded by a pool of congealed blood.
...You only recognize her by the clothes she's wearing, and it takes your brother's hand on your shoulder to keep you from passing out. Bits of brain and skull are scattered across the area right next to the front door, and her face is broken, so incredibly shattered that you don't know how to process what's in front of you.
Choking back a sob, the two of you call out for your dad as you move further into the house, but it doesn't take long to come across him behind the couch, face down in a pool of his own blood. You can tell even without touching him that he's dead, his head practically ruined much like your mother's, blood and bone and bits of what you're positive is his brain too scattered around him and on the couch. His clothes, too, are the only real way you can be sure it's him.
"911, right? That's who we call?"
You nod as your vision starts to go blurry with tears, and your brother runs to the phone. It's impossible not to feel like the entire room is closing in on you, especially as you finally notice the evidence of a struggle that occured—a discarded fireplace poker near your mom, a chair or two upturned, droplets of blood and what might be even more brain matter on the carpet...
Deciding you can't take it anymore, you go to your brother to listen to him make the call.
And just like that, it fades away just as Fai comes back around the corner. ]
no subject
But when that door opens... (cw gore, violence, family death)
A deep dark red stains your shoes as you swing open the door and step right into a puddle, giggling about something with your brother as the two of you have just been dropped off from a birthday party. Your spirits are high, uplifted by pizza and cake and songs. However, your feet almost stick to the ground as the congealed blood now on your shoe makes you feel almost sick.
An acrid, metallic smell hits the both of you almost immediately, and the two of you look at one another, identical expressions of fear and uncertainty on your faces. It smells of blood, and even if it's a scent you're not really familiar with, it's undeniable. The house is also quiet, too quiet, as the echoes of your laughter from mere seconds ago practically bounce off of the walls. Your twin steels himself as he takes a step forward and past you and that terrifying puddle to call out for your parents, and it nudges you into action too as you shut the door behind the both of you and come face to face with your mom on the ground, surrounded by a pool of congealed blood.
...You only recognize her by the clothes she's wearing, and it takes your brother's hand on your shoulder to keep you from passing out. Bits of brain and skull are scattered across the area right next to the front door, and her face is broken, so incredibly shattered that you don't know how to process what's in front of you.
Choking back a sob, the two of you call out for your dad as you move further into the house, but it doesn't take long to come across him behind the couch, face down in a pool of his own blood. You can tell even without touching him that he's dead, his head practically ruined much like your mother's, blood and bone and bits of what you're positive is his brain too scattered around him and on the couch. His clothes, too, are the only real way you can be sure it's him.
"911, right? That's who we call?"
You nod as your vision starts to go blurry with tears, and your brother runs to the phone. It's impossible not to feel like the entire room is closing in on you, especially as you finally notice the evidence of a struggle that occured—a discarded fireplace poker near your mom, a chair or two upturned, droplets of blood and what might be even more brain matter on the carpet...
Deciding you can't take it anymore, you go to your brother to listen to him make the call.
And just like that, it fades away just as Fai comes back around the corner. ]
Did you get lost?