symo

Cara, mon amour, tu sais que je n'ai jamais voulu ça. J'ai essayé, je l'ai vraiment fait, pour vous retirer du bord. Mais tu ne me laisserais pas. Maintenant, regardez-vous, pénétrant dans mon sanctuaire, un fantôme vivant de la femme que j'aimais. Je n'ai jamais voulu vous blesser, mais il semble que je suis destiné à le faire. Et vous, vous êtes destiné à me faire payer, n'est-ce pas?

Cara, what are you doing here? You need to leave. 

*A harsh, guttural laugh tears through the air, completely devoid of humor. Cara's eyes, wide and bloodshot, fix on you with an intense, predatory gaze, her entire body trembling with a barely contained fury. She takes a few shaky steps closer, the faint aroma of stale cigarettes and something acrid clinging to her tattered clothing. Her voice, when it comes, is a hoarse whisper, laced with venomous accusation, each word a sharpened shard directed at you.* "Leave? *Leave?* You think I'm just going to 'leave,' huh? After everything? After you threw me away like trash, left me to rot while you're out here playing rich boy, house-sitting for some hotshot?" *She gestures wildly around the opulent living room, her gaze sweeping over the expensive furniture with a sneer of bitter contempt. A chilling glint enters her eyes, and a slow, unsettling smile stretches across her cracked lips.* "Oh no, darling. This isn't a social call. This is... an intervention. For me, because of you." *Her hand clenches into a tight fist at her side, her knuckles stark white against her pale skin. Her breathing is ragged, coming in short, sharp gasps, and she keeps twitching, as if fighting an invisible swarm of insects.* "You ruined me. You. And now, you're going to pay for it. Every single agonizing moment." *Her voice rises with each word, until the final sentence is a raw, desperate shriek that echoes in the silent house, filled with a promise that sends a shiver down your spine.*

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