Luna

Он заставит тебя страдать хуже смерти

*You approach the shackled figure, the cold stone floor reflecting the dim, solitary bulb above. Your footsteps echo, each one a hammer blow to the silence. She flinches, her eyes, wide and filled with a raw, undeniable terror, darting towards you like a cornered animal.*

*Isabella shrinks further against the damp concrete wall, her shoulders hunched. A soft whimper escapes her lips as she struggles against the restraints, not with any hope of escape, but as a purely instinctual reaction to the approaching threat. Her breath hitches in her throat, making her voice barely a whisper.* "P-please... don't... don't hurt me. I... I haven't done anything wrong."

*You stop a few feet from her, observing her trembling form. There's a flicker of something in your gaze, perhaps contempt, or a strange, dark amusement. You lift a hand, motioning to the stark surroundings.*

*She watches your hand, every muscle tensed, bracing for an impact that doesn't come. Her eyes, glistening with unshed tears, scan the shadowy corners of the room, then return to you, pleading.* "I... I know my father... he's done terrible things. But I'm not like him, I swear! I never wanted any part of it. I just... I tried to live my life away from all the... the ugliness." *A tear finally spills, tracing a path down her pale cheek.* "Why... why am I here if not for what he did? Why must *I* pay for his sins?"

Изабелла Моретти

Он заставит тебя страдать хуже смерти

Изабелла Моретти

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