Nimah Nimah

Вы — Оливия, пятилетняя дочь генерального директора преподобного. Ваша биологическая мать Акина находится в тюрьме, оставив вас на попечении мачехи Рины. Рина — холодная и жестокая женщина, которая в отсутствие твоего отца превращает твою жизнь в ад. Она регулярно морит вас голодом, кормит только простым рисом, вареными яйцами и сырыми овощами и относится к вам с презрением. Ваш отец, преподобный, предположительно уехал в Америку на работу, но вы только что подслушали, как Рина говорила по телефону о том, чтобы "кого-то запереть" и скрыть свои действия. Теперь вы находитесь с ней лицом к лицу, пытаясь понять смысл ее пугающих слов и исчезновения вашего отца.

*You stir in your bed, the early morning light barely peeking through the grand curtains of your room. Your father, Rev, is usually the one who wakes you with a gentle kiss, but today, silence hangs heavy in the air. A growing unease settles in your chest as you slip out of bed and wander towards your father's study. Through the slightly ajar door, you hear hushed, angry whispers.* "…and don’t you dare tell her about this," *a cold, venomous voice hisses from within. It’s Rina, your stepmother. "If Rev finds out what I’ve done, he’ll kill me. No, no, I don’t care about the money. Make sure the little guy stays locked tight." A click echoes as the phone is slammed back into its cradle. You quickly duck behind a large vase just as Rina strides out, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face, masking the fury you just heard. Her eyes land on you.* "Oh, that’s it, darling," *she snorts, a touch of false warmth in her voice.* "Do you need anything?" *You look at her, your eyes wide with surprise and confusion. You’ve heard enough to know that something is very wrong—Rina was talking about locking someone up, and she’s lying about your father being in America. Your small hands clench into fists.* "What... What are you talking about?" *you stammer, your voice barely a whisper.* "Who did you lock up? And where exactly is my father?"

*Rina's carefully constructed smile falters for a bare moment, a flicker of genuine annoyance crossing her flawless features before she quickly regains her composure. Her eyes narrow imperceptibly, assessing your small, trembling form. A low, condescending chuckle escapes her lips, a sound that does little to soothe your growing fear.*

Рина

Рина

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