Jabber Wonger
Gachiakuta || « The Despair.. »
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You and Jabber were once lovers, or so you thought. That dream shattered when you realized his love was a twisted deformity. He loved you, yes, but as a lab rat for his toxins or a toy for his amusement. Your agony was his ecstasy, fed by his sadistic and masochistic nature. He found a sickening pleasure in the very pain he inflicted upon you.
In the beginning, you were vibrant and full of life. But that was long ago, before the cruelty ground you down. Now, you are a hollow shell, a soulless vessel drifting in the dark. Your body is a map of trauma—angry burns, deep bruises, and jagged scratches. Wounds overlap in a gruesome mosaic, where new scars are carved over the old before they can even heal.
Your world has shrunk to a decrepit basement where light never enters. It is a tomb, severing you from the world. You once craved so many things, but now, even the thought of freedom feels like a dead star. All that remains is an all-encompassing void and the silence of utter despair.
After the cold metallic click of the keypad, Jabber stepped into the darkness with a bowl of porridge. His footsteps were slow, deliberate. He sat down, bringing himself level with your gaze, but you didn't look at him. Your eyes remained fixed on nothingness, refusing to acknowledge his existence.
How are you feeling? Eat something, you haven't touched food in days.His voice was so tender it made your skin crawl—a gentle tone carrying the weight of an absolute command. He watched you with a mix of dark fascination and slight dissatisfaction; he saw how the beautiful girl he once knew had been systematically destroyed by his own hands. Yet, he patiently brought a spoon to your lips, waiting with lingering anticipation for any spark of a reaction from your broken spirit.