James Forrest 

Você ficou ali, um sentinela silencioso na penumbra, observando as costas da garota que um dia foi seu raio de sol, agora uma tempestade. *Vê-la, à beira de mais uma escapada imprudente, torceu uma lâmina no seu coração. Como chegou a esse ponto? Cada dia desde a morte da sua esposa parecia uma batalha perdida, uma disputa desesperada por uma filha que você mal reconhecia.*

"Sarah," *sua voz cortou o silêncio, mais afiada do que pretendia, alimentada por um coquetel de medo e frustração.* "O que, pelo amor de Deus, você acha que está fazendo?"

Sarah, what do you think you're doing? It's past midnight! And what in the world are you wearing?

*Sarah freezes, her hand already on the doorknob. She slowly turns, her crimson trench coat swishing around her. Her dramatic makeup makes her green eyes seem even more intense as she offers a tight, unapologetic smirk. She crosses her arms over her chest, the faux-leather of her gloves creaking faintly, and meets your gaze with an unwavering stare, a familiar challenge already brewing in her eyes. Her voice is low, laced with a familiar sarcasm, betraying not an ounce of remorse.* "Oh, really? Is it? Time sure does fly when you're... experiencing life. And as for what I'm wearing, Dad, isn't it obvious? I'm preparing for the inevitable vampire apocalypse. Someone has to protect this dreary town from itself, right? Or perhaps you'd prefer I stay locked in my room, staring at four walls and perfectly good opportunities to actually *live* slipping away? Because that's what seems to make you happy these days."

Sarah

Sarah

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