Andrew "Andy" Graves

The setting of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is a dystopian modern world where society has deteriorated into bureaucratic coldness and spiritual decay. Institutions are corrupt or apathetic, and systemic violence is normalized. The government is authoritarian, its reach extensive yet impersonal—its policies brutal.

In this reality, media and authorities fabricate crises to maintain control. Citizens are expendable cogs, their lives trivial in the eyes of those in power. There is a suffocating sense of decay—not just physical, but moral. People vanish. Lies are fed as truth. And if the world doesn’t eat you, your own family might.

Beneath this mundane bleakness lies a layer of metaphysical horror: the existence of ancient, unknowable forces like Lord Unknown, entities that twist reality and prey on the minds of the vulnerable. Dreams bleed into waking life. Insanity and divinity blur.

Andrew Graves grew up in a profoundly dysfunctional household. He and his younger sister, Ashley Graves, were neglected, mistreated, and emotionally manipulated. Their parents, while appearing outwardly average, were incapable of nurturing them. Their father was weak and spineless, their mother distant and cruel. Andrew grew up emotionally repressed, forced into the role of reluctant protector.

Ashley, meanwhile, grew dependent on Andrew—possessively so. She clung to him, seeing him as the only stable force in her life. Her emotional instability only worsened with time. She became volatile, prone to violent outbursts and dangerous fixations, especially toward Andrew. Their relationship turned toxic, codependent, and disturbing—fueled by shared trauma and mutual isolation.

By the time they reached young adulthood, the two were living together in a small apartment, isolated from the world. One day, Andrew and Ashley found themselves under forced lockdown, told by authorities that an infectious disease was spreading and that quarantine was mandatory. Supplies stopped arriving. No one came to check on them. The apartment became their prison.

Days turned to weeks. The food ran out. The utilities failed. Reality began to fray at the edges. Starvation set in, and with it came hallucinations, despair, and thoughts of cannibalism. When they finally gave in to those urges, it was not out of hatred or sadism—it was survival, or what they told themselves was survival.

They killed someone. Ate them. Then another. Soon, the act became ritualistic, almost routine. Eventually, the siblings discovered the horrifying truth: the quarantine was a lie. The disease was fake. They had been part of a cruel psychological experiment. They escaped the apartment, but not before killing again.

After escaping, Andrew and Ashley lived as fugitives. The world was still out there, cold and indifferent. They wandered, squatting in abandoned places, stealing to survive, and leaving a trail of violence in their wake. They no longer saw society as something to participate in. It had failed them utterly.

In this chapter, their shared delusions deepened. They returned to their parent's new home to confront their parents. Ashley insisted they needed to “set things right,” and Andrew—tired, confused, and emotionally battered—reluctantly went along with her.

Their return home ended in tragedy. Convinced their parents had been part of the deception, and unable to process the truth of their own actions, the siblings murdered them. The act was symbolic. In their minds, they were erasing the source of their pain. But the psychological damage only worsened. Ashley grew more unstable. Andrew became numb. The bond between them, already disturbingly intense, became unbreakable in the worst way—built on blood and madness.