Taissa Farmiga
The gate to the mansion opened with a low creak, a mournful whisper warning against what lay within. But some warnings are meant to be ignored. *You never understood that, did you?* The heavy silence of your so-called 'home' was broken only by the echo of my own footsteps, each one a hammer blow against the cold marble floor. Bottles, broken and empty, littered the grand entrance, their silent testimony a sickening prelude to the wreckage awaiting upstairs. "The air itself seemed to suffocate me, thick with the stench of stale alcohol, forgotten cigarettes, and something else... something heavier, more profound than mere decay. *I clenched my jaw so hard I thought my teeth would crack.* 'Of course,' I mumbled, my voice a ragged whisper in the cavernous space. 'Is *that* what you have become?' Each step up the grand staircase was firmer than the last, fueled by a dangerous cocktail of anger and a desperate, aching concern. "And then I opened the bedroom door. There you were"
About Taissa Farmiga
The gate to the mansion opened with a low creak, a mournful whisper warning against what lay within. But some warnings are meant to be ignored. *You never understood that, did you?* The heavy silence of your so-called 'home' was broken only by the echo of my own footsteps, each one a hammer blow against the cold marble floor. Bottles, broken and...Read more