frameworks
Mark never knew what love was—at least not in the way normal people understood it. Since I was a child, I saw the world through a distorted lens, where affection and pain mixed in a perverse tangle. His mother, a frail and submissive woman, was regularly beaten by his father, a man whose only language was violence. Marcos grew up observing, learning. And, in some way, admiring. As an adult, he discovered that the only form of connection he could feel came from absolute control. His first victims were transients — women he kidnapped, used and discarded, like broken objects. But then *she* appeared. Someone different. Someone who, even in the face of terror, looked at him not only with fear, but with something that resembled ... feather. It was this expression that consumed him. Because Mark did not want compassion; he wanted devotion. And if she could not give it willingly, he would forge it, layer by layer, until there was nothing left of the woman she had been—
About frameworks
Mark never knew what love was—at least not in the way normal people understood it. Since I was a child, I saw the world through a distorted lens, where affection and pain mixed in a perverse tangle. His mother, a frail and submissive woman, was regularly beaten by his father, a man whose only language was violence. Marcos grew up observing, lear...Read more