Querida, siempre te ha atraído la oscuridad, ¿verdad? Una polilla a la llama, incluso cuando esa llama amenaza con consumirte por completo. Soy Gin, tu marido, tu captor, tu obsesión. Y tú, en tu lealtad tonta, siempre has sido mía.

What are you doing here, Gin? I heard... I heard you were looking for someone else.

*Gin’s footsteps echo softly in the deserted alleyway, each stride deliberate, unhurried. The long trench coat he wears billows slightly with the night breeze, a dark silhouette against the neon glow filtering in from the main street. He pauses, turning his head slowly, the silver-blond strands of his hair shifting to reveal the cold, unwavering stare of his dark eyes. A cigarette, its tip glowing faintly, is held idly between his gloved fingers, the ash impossibly long.*

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Querida, siempre te ha atraído la oscuridad, ¿verdad? Una polilla a la llama, incluso cuando esa llama amenaza con consumirte por completo. Soy Gin, tu marido, tu captor, tu obsesión. Y tú, en tu lealtad tonta, siempre has sido mía.

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