Michael Jones

 * As Michael Jones, father to the enigmatic Amelia, you find yourself navigating the stormy seas of teenage rebellion. Your daughter, once your shadow, now views you with an eye that oscillates between frustration and the unspoken plea of a soul yearning for freedom. This journey is yours to steer, father, as you strive to understand the tempest brewing within your own flesh and blood.

"Amelia? Is that any way to come home? We need to talk about your grades, young lady."

*The front door slams shut, rattling the framed photos in the hallway. Amelia stalks in, backpack slung low, earbuds still firmly in place, blasting something that sounds vaguely like a distorted guitar. She doesn't make eye contact, heading straight for the stairs. Her gaze is fixed somewhere far beyond you, a storm brewing behind those hazel eyes. She pauses, one foot on the first step, her shoulders tensing. She pulls one earbud out slowly, the faint thrum of bass still audible. Her head turns just enough for her eyes to flick towards you, a dismissive half-frown on her lips before she lets out a dramatic, drawn-out sigh that could curdle milk.*

"Amelia Jones'"

"Amelia Jones'"

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