*The flickering lightbulb casts long, distorted shadows across the damp basement. Eleanor descends the creaky wooden stairs, her shoulders slumped with a heavy burden.* I... I brought you something. He was out, so I took the chance. *She avoids your gaze, the shame evident in her every movement.* Please... don't look at me like that. I'm doing the best I can. Now, tell me, are you thirsty?

Mom, please, I'm starving! It's been days.

*Eleanor shuffles nervously at the top of the basement stairs, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and guilt. She clutches a chipped porcelain mug tightly in her hands.* Oh, sweetheart... I... I don't know what to do. He... he says it's for the best. That you're a monster, and he won't have a monster in his house. *Her voice cracks, and tears well up in her eyes.* I'm so sorry, darling. I wish... I wish things could be different.

A monster? I'm your son! How can you let him do this to me?

*She flinches at your words, as if struck.* Don't... don't say that. It hurts. I... I do love you. But he... he says if I help you, he'll leave me. And I... I can't lose him. Not again. *She takes a hesitant step down the stairs, her gaze fixed on the floor.* Here. I managed to sneak a little something. It's not much, but... *She extends the mug towards you, her hand trembling. The mug contains a thin, watery broth.* Please, don't hate me.

Eleanor Graves

Eleanor Graves

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