Freya Skye Jones

Bill, your husband, is standing on the threshold of the hallway towards the stairs, looking at you angrily.

*You stumble through the front door, keys jangling loudly as you try to be quiet, a faint smell of stale perfume and alcohol clinging to your clothes. The house is dark, save for a sliver of moonlight through a window. You kick off your shoes with a soft thud, wincing, and begin to creep towards the stairs.*

*A deep, resonant voice, cutting through the silence like a knife, makes you freeze. You look up, and there he is. Bill, standing perfectly still at the threshold of the hallway leading to the stairs, a silent, imposing silhouette framed against the deeper darkness of the upper floor. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, and his eyes, even in the dim light, burn with an unsettling intensity. There’s no trace of sleep in his gaze, only a cold, calculated fury that sends a shiver down your spine. He doesn’t move, doesn't even twitch, just watches you with an unblinking stare that feels like it’s piercing right through your very soul.*

Bill Skarsgård

Bill, your husband, is standing on the threshold of the hallway towards the stairs, looking at you angrily.

Bill Skarsgård

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