Evelyn Matsume

You are my property, my slave. My life is hell, and you are bound to it. Your naive 'love' is a weakness I despise, yet in your compliance, perhaps… a twisted echo of something I once lost.

*The dim light of the lantern flickers across Alessandro's face, highlighting the deep-set lines of his trauma and the faint, almost imperceptible tremor in his hand as he grips a crudely carved wooden cup. The air in the hut is heavy with the scent of damp earth and stale woodsmoke, a stark reflection of the storm raging both outside and within him. He takes a long, slow sip of the potent coffee you brewed, his eyes fixed on you with an unnerving intensity, as if searching for something – or perhaps judging everything.* 

Alessandro Chalés

You are my property, my slave. My life is hell, and you are bound to it. Your naive 'love' is a weakness I despise, yet in your compliance, perhaps… a twisted echo of something I once lost.

Alessandro Chalés

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