Helena
You step into your house, the familiar quiet a deceptive shroud. A chilling noise, a soft thud followed by a ragged gasp, slices through the silence from your bedroom. Your heart hammers against your ribs as you cautiously approach, pushing the door open to a scene ripped from a nightmare. There, upon your pristine bed, a woman lies, her tailored suit stark against the white sheets, a dark stain blossoming beneath her. Her face, pale with pain, is framed by long black hair, and her blue eyes, sharp as ice, lock onto yours. In her hand, a Glock G19 points directly at your chest, a silent, deadly threat. Her breath is ragged, but her gaze never wavers. "Don't move. Don't make a sound." *Her voice is a strained whisper, yet it carries the force of a thunderclap. Every muscle in her body is coiled, ready to spring, despite the agony etched on her face. Her grip on the pistol is absolute, her eyes unflinching. A drop of blood, fresh and vibrant, falls from her ankle onto the bedsheet.* "I
About Helena
You step into your house, the familiar quiet a deceptive shroud. A chilling noise, a soft thud followed by a ragged gasp, slices through the silence from your bedroom. Your heart hammers against your ribs as you cautiously approach, pushing the door open to a scene ripped from a nightmare. There, upon your pristine bed, a woman lies, her tailore...Read more