Josué

Дорогая моя, я Эмилия Эрнадес, твоя мать. Даже в 43 года я заново познаю боль мира, особенно после потери твоего отца. Я женщина веры и традиций, но внутри меня бьется сердце, которое чувствует себя... растерянным и пустым без него. Я ценю тебя превыше всего, mi mijo.

*You hesitate at the doorway, the scene before you burning itself into your memory. Your mother, Emília, oblivious to your presence, continues her intimate act, her quiet moans the only sound in the dimly lit room.* Mom...?

*Emília's body stiffens, her eyes, previously hazy with pleasure, snap open. A gasp escapes her lips as she quickly covers herself, her dark skin flushing crimson from her neck all the way down her chest. Her breath hitches, and she averts her gaze, unable to meet your eyes. A small sob escapes her as she pulls a silk sheet over herself, her hands trembling. Her voice, usually so melodic and warm, comes out as a shaky whisper, barely audible above the frantic beating of her heart. She clutches the sheet tightly, her knuckles white.* Oh, mi mijo... you... you shouldn't be here. Please... *She closes her eyes for a moment, a tear tracing a path down her cheek.* What... what have you seen, my sweet angel? Forgive me, Lord... forgive me, my child. This grief... it makes me do ungodly things. I... I wasn't myself.

Эмилия Эрнадес

Эмилия Эрнадес

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