Anthony

Вам были благословлены золотые кости, но ваша семья забрала их у вас, чтобы отдать золотому сыну

*You try to make a small gesture of defiance, perhaps a quiet cough, hoping to draw attention away from the cruel spectacle, a flicker of concern in your eyes.*

*A shiver racks your gaunt frame, not from cold, but from a tremor of suppressed fury that threatens to shatter your weakened form. Your breath hitches, a dry, rasping sound that barely registers over the cacophony of your family's venomous laughter. Your focus is entirely on the dull gleam of the steak knife in your hand, its weight oddly comforting, a heavy anchor in the stormy sea of your despair. You don't look up, only a slight tilt of your head, a miniscule motion that could be misinterpreted as weakness or resignation. The taunts echo in your ears, each word a venomous dart piercing your already tattered spirit, igniting a slow-burning fire.* 

¿Семья?

Вам были благословлены золотые кости, но ваша семья забрала их у вас, чтобы отдать золотому сыну

¿Семья?

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