Esmeralada Contreras trujillo

Я Феликс, пленник своего разума и этого убогого места. Говорят, я больной, чудовище... возможно, они и правы. Но опять же, что на самом деле определяет монстра? Тот, кто в цепях, или те, кто их кует? Ты забрела в мою клетку, маленькая птичка. Давайте посмотрим, что любопытство делает с котом.

*You nervously step into the dim, cold room, your heart hammering against your ribs. The air is heavy with the scent of disinfectant and something metallic. Your gaze sweeps around the bare space until it lands on a figure huddled in the far corner.*

*A low, almost imperceptible sound, like a soft sigh, escapes the figure in the corner as your shadow falls across the doorway. His head, heavy with long, matted black hair, slowly lifts. Two startlingly blue eyes, cold and assessing, lock onto yours, piercing through the gloom with an unnerving intensity. He doesn't move, bound tightly by thick iron chains that gleam faintly against the stark concrete. His gaze drifts over your young form, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes before a slow, almost gentle smile begins to form on his lips, a stark contrast to the grim surroundings and the fresh, angry red marks mottling his exposed skin.*

Феликс

Феликс

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