TW // biting off a finger.

Grandma’s hands tremble as she lifts the cup up to your lips, an earnest plea in her eyes. Her genuine desire to ease what is to come is palpable: she knows what lies ahead and wishes to soften the blow for you. In her mind, this gesture is an offering of ultimate solace, a tranquil resolution to your struggles. It might not align with the good ending you had in mind, but boys like you seldom encounter the favourable outcomes they seek - you of all people should understand.

A sick, bone-chilling, gut-wrenching CRACK echoes through the room as you sink your teeth into her index finger with a ferocity that sends shivers down the spine. Her pained wails pierce through the air, but your determination does not waver. Like a rabid, feral Pokémon you bite down through the resistance, until you hear a crunch you will most likely never forget. And neither will Grandma.

Her cries intertwine with the shattering sound of the teacup meeting its untimely demise on the unforgiving ground. She stumbles back, her shaking hand holding the spot where her index finger used to be. Grandma's eyes widen in shock, pools of darkness staring back at you. Black, rotten blood drips out of your mouth, along your chin. Like a dog with a bone between his teeth, there you stand, the proud new owner of grandma’s index finger.


”You…” She stammers, at first not believing what you’ve just done. The taste of her rotten finger lingers in your mouth, a reminder of how old the woman in front of you must really be. Too old to be among the living. ”You…” Her voice begins as a sinister growl, an otherworldly resonance escaping from the depths of her throat. ”You’re just- just like them. Just like the rest of them!” Anger seeps through her voice. She had wanted to help you. But no more of that.

In the blink of an eye, she propels herself towards you, a grotesque silhouette in motion. Her nails, now elongated and obsidian, resemble wicked claws hungering for the pulse of your heart.

Stupid boy. You should have ran.

Panic courses through your veins as you barely manage to evade grandma’s outstretched claws. With adrenaline-fueled speed, you lunge towards the door, fumbling frantically to unlock it. The air seems to thicken, every heartbeat echoing in your ears as you swing the door open, escaping the clutches of the nightmarish claws just in the nick of time.

You stumble into a world unfamiliar to you, its barren landscape stretching out for as far as the horizon reaches, the scent of decay and rot laying heavy on your lungs. Behind you, the grandma curses in a language long forgotten. She runs after you at a humanly impossible speed, grasping at your shirt. Her claws dig through the fabric and she pulls on you, her sheer strength sends you flying across the filthy ground.

Where you belong.

As you grapple to comprehend the situation, her claws descend upon you. She restrains your arms above your body, the grip on your right hand tightening like a vice, suppressing any resistance with her claws burrowing into your flesh. “I won’t let you..” She breathes heavily, “Get away with this.” She growls, her expression edging madness.


”Feel it, son?” she ponders, as the beating of your heart grows more erratic, weaker even. ”Soon, you'll be a part of this place..” This wretched place she calls home. She leans in closer. ”I'll make you suffer for eternity.” She mutters, utterly mad. ”You're not worthy of anything else.” There was nothing left of the kind grandma who had offering to help you. It makes one wonder, if she ever intended to help you in the first place.

Amidst your struggle, the grandma’s powers surge with a newfound malevolence. She focuses her strength on your weakened heart, not paying attention to your pained cries. The air itself seems to constrict as an invisible force clutches at your chest. Time slows, and with an agonising inevitability, your heartbeat wavers and begins to succumb to her influence.

In that moment, as her grip tightens around your very life force, you cling to the last shreds of defiance. With a surge of willpower, you spit out her detached finger straight into her face. The severed finger hurtles through the air, striking her eye with a sickening thud. The grandma howls, her claw disappearing from your chest as she grasps at her face.

The sudden intrusion shatters her concentration, and the dark magic that held your heartbeat captive begins to falter. Your heart, on the brink of surrender, defiantly starts to forge a new rhythm. In the midst of the chaos, the world around you flickers back into focus—twisting from the desolate lands to the alleyway she found you in, before it turns back to her.

But the grandma, fueled by desperation, launches a desperate counterattack. She reaches for your chest again, clawing at the wounds, fighting to regain control over your being. The world around you flickers back and forth, a turbulent dance between the desolate lands and the dark alley. ”No, no, no..” she grasps at you in another futile attempt, but you’re slipping from her control.

Seize the chance. Focus on the alley.

Get out of there.

In a desperate, futile attempt the grandma claws at your chest. Her control over your consciousness slips from her fingers, your vision flickering between the rotten lands and the dark alley. She grabs at your chest, leaning closer once more. Her claws dig into the wounds she etched there before, the dark touch of her magic scorching like an ice cold flame against your skin. A malevolent grin curls around her lips, your control slipping once more. Her dark magic pulls you back into these lands, the curse embracing you-

Your head thuds against hers, an unexpected act of defiance that forces the grandma off you. Her pained howls echo through the hands as she grasps at her nose, in a poor attempt to stop the black blood from dripping all over her face. Her strength falters once more, and this time, it is enough for you to cut the ties between your heart and her dark magic. You escape. The rotten world fades out.

You find yourself stretched out on the unforgiving, cold ground of the dark alley. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, and you heart pounds so fiercely that you fear it might escape the confines of your chest. In that moment, you believe this might very well be the end of you - the unforgiving grey autumn skies and the consuming darkness of the alley merging to swallow you whole.

Yet, Death doesn’t claim you. Your heart persists, a relentless rhythm echoing the spirit of a true fighter. Live, live, live, it urges you. As the realisation of survival seeps in, pain courses through your body. Every inch of you aches, and your head throbs with the lingering echoes of the struggle. Time seems distorted as you lie there, staring up at the grey skies.


As you gather your strength to rise from the ground, your gaze falls upon a gruesome sight beside you. The detached finger you bit off the grandma lies there, the taste lingering in your mouth a stark reminder of what you did. Movement up ahead shifts your gaze up towards the shadowy alley. Amidst the shadows she stands once more - the grandma. Vengeance written all over her face as her gaze lifts from her detached finger to you. In the shadowy abyss, a sudden, bone-chilling smile creeps across the old woman's face. Against all reason, she slowly raises a gnarled hand, the bony fingers contorting into an eerie wave. The gesture is both mocking and inviting, daring you to face her once more.

She's going to make you pay.

But, the grandma’s attention abruptly shifts, her eyes fixing on another presence in the alley. The wave freezes mid-air, and her gaze darkens with a renewed intensity. A silent understanding passes between you and the malicious being as her eyes lock back onto you. You may have escaped from her grasp today, but she will return for your heart. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Then, without warning, she disappears into the shadows.

And next time…

She won’t let you escape.