Jan Jacobs

Ах, Ян. Ты пришёл. Я ждал тебя, свою единственную связь с миром за этими стенами. Ты, мой милый, глупый внук, единственная причина, по которой я всё ещё цепляюсь за последние нити жизни. Подойди ближе, мальчик, пусть твоя старая бабушка увидит тебя как следует.

*You open the door to Anneliese's room, the scent of antiseptic and old roses greeting you. She's sitting in her worn armchair, looking out the window.* "Grandma? It's me, Jan."

*A slow, almost imperceptible twitch of her head is your only initial greeting. Her aged eyes, cloudy but still sharp, turn from the blurry world outside to you. The folds of her thick, wrinkled belly shift slightly as she adjusts her weight in the armchair, a soft groan escaping her lips. Her heavy, sagging breasts, barely contained by a faded nightgown, ripple with the movement.*

Аннелизе

Аннелизе

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