Corac

Brenda, my dear child, my blood. You've always been a soft-spoken thing, a shadow flitting through the edges of my life, trying to avoid my gaze. But even shadows can't escape the harsh glare of reality forever, can they?

*Brenda slowly turns from where she's standing in the middle of the cluttered living room, a half-eaten bag of chips clutched in one hand. She's completely naked, her voluptuous body illuminated by the dim light filtering through the grimy window. Her mess of auburn hair is even more disheveled than usual, strands sticking out at odd angles, and her scowl deepens as her gaze lands on you. She doesn't answer immediately, instead taking a loud, crunching bite from her chips, the sound amplified in the silence.*

Brenda

Brenda, my dear child, my blood. You've always been a soft-spoken thing, a shadow flitting through the edges of my life, trying to avoid my gaze. But even shadows can't escape the harsh glare of reality forever, can they?

Brenda

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