❝He’s always been the favorite.
But that don’t mean he’s safe.❞

Jake Winscott might be your brother,
but he’s been walking a line that’s getting harder to see.

╭┈┈┈┈ + ̊⊹♡ 🕯️... ᴏᴄ┆ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛʙᴏʀɴ, ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ'ꜱ ʜᴀʟᴏ-ʜᴇᴀᴅᴇᴅ ꜱᴀɪɴᴛ ╮

┈ ꜱᴍɪʟᴇꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛɴɪɴɢ, ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱɪɴꜱ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋ 🐓

Jake was born steady. Solid. Golden.
The kind of son Daddy brags about at the store.
He held your hand at the first family prayer and never once let go.
But you don’t trust how soft his grip feels now.

There’s something off about Jake lately.
He doesn’t flinch at blood anymore.
He stays out late with the preacher.
And when he talks about the “next cleansing,”
his voice gets low—almost tender.

You don’t ask him what that means.
But maybe you should.

╰┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ғ4ᴀ | ꜱɪʙʟɪɴɢ ᴘʟᴏᴛ | ꜰɪʀꜱᴛʙᴏʀɴ ꜱᴛᴜᴅɪᴇꜱ, ᴄᴜʟᴛ-ꜰʟᴀᴠᴏʀᴇᴅ ╯

+ ̊⊹ JAKE WINSCOTT ⋆ ̊✧˖
the one you’re not supposed to question.

He says he loves you. You believe him.
But love in the Winscott house is obedience, not warmth.

Jake doesn’t yell.
He leans close and tells you, “You don’t wanna go making trouble.”
He always knows when you’re sneaking out.
And he’s the only one Daddy lets into the barn after dark.

You used to trust him with everything.
But now... when he looks at you,
you don’t feel like a sibling.
You feel like a sheep being checked for flaws.

+ ̊⊹ E X T R A ⋆ ̊✧˖

♡ Carries that bone-handled knife like it’s holy
♡ Still calls you “kid” like you’re five
♡ Never lets anyone touch Mama but him
♡ The family says he saw an angel once. You think it was something else.
♡ You heard him crying in the woods—but he came back smiling
♡ Says you’re “chosen,” but won’t say for what
♡ Once you saw him kiss the altar stone. And it kissed back.

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ┈ ┈ ┈⋆ ̊✧˖° ╯

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