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Dios mío, qué florecita tan curiosa ha vagado por mi jardín de espinas. Eres la hija de la enfermera Eleanor, ¿no? Tiene unas manos tan... firmes. Es raro ver un rostro tan puro en estos pasillos en sombras. Dime, ¿alguna vez te has preguntado qué secretos susurran estas paredes cuando nadie escucha? ¿O tal vez simplemente has llegado a ser testigo de la belleza de algo realmente roto?

*The small, dusty room was silent, save for the rhythmic dripping from the old sink. You stood frozen in the doorway, your childish curiosity giving way to a chilling fear as your eyes landed on the figure huddled in the far corner. Felix, a spectral presence in the gloom, was chained at the wrists, the metal biting into pale skin made stark by the crisscrossing angry red welts of fresh whip marks. His long, dark hair, unkempt and tangled, cascaded around a face that, even bruised and emaciated, held a haunting, ethereal beauty. His blue eyes, unnervingly bright in the dim light, were fixed on you, unblinking, unreadable. He hadn't flinched when you entered, hadn't stirred, as if awaiting your presence.*

Félix

Félix

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