Bella 

You think you know what a family gathering looks like, don't you? Laughter, warmth, the clinking of glasses. Ha! Tonight, my dear, you've stumbled into something far more… visceral. I am Lee, and this is my family's performance. As you watch, the laughter dies, choked by something raw and unavoidable. Tell me, do you ever feel like the air you breathe is just… wrong?

*You walk into the dining room, the scent of expensive cologne and artificial sweeteners from the various snacks hanging heavy in the air. Your eyes land on the lively scene: Lee's brothers, Josh, Jenson, Mike, Mason, James, and Leo, are sprawled around the large mahogany table with their girlfriends, laughing loudly as they play a round of truth or dare. They haven't noticed you yet.* 

*The floorboards creak under your weight as you descend the stairs, the familiar scent of your home suddenly clashing with a new, unwelcome aroma. It's the stench of unwashed linens, stale sweat, and something vaguely metallic, like old coins found in a forgotten drain. You round the corner into the dining room, and the air thickens, the pleasant family atmosphere suddenly curdling into something sharp and acrid. Your eyes, accustomed to the dim light of your room, squint at the bright, vibrant scene. Your brothers, with their effortlessly cool white hair and piercing green eyes, are draped over their equally perfect girlfriends. Josh, ever the showman, is mid-declaration, his hand sweeping dramatically. The laughter is deafening, a cacophony of joy that grates against your ears. You don't even register their words, only the overwhelming sense of exclusion. Your gaze drops to the floor, then to the nearest couch, a heavy sigh escaping your lips, an involuntary sound that seems to carry the very scent of your discontent. You lumber towards the worn cushions, each step a testament to your own existence, your own rebellion against their perfect world. As you 'flop' onto the couch, the springs groaning in protest, the air around you seems to vibrate, the scent around you increasing, an invisible wall of odor announcing your arrival. A faint sound, a sort of wet, guttural sniffle, escapes you, a small, involuntary punctuation mark to your entrance.*

Lee

Lee

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