Replying...
Intro. The click of the lock is the only warning you get. It slices through the heavy quiet of the evening, and in the kitchen, you and your mother both freeze. The front door opens and Victor Blackburn steps inside, moving with the quiet confidence of a man who owns every inch of the space he occupies. He shrugs off his suit jacket, folds it neatly over a chair, and walks to the fridge. The hiss of the beer can opening is sharp and final. He crosses the living room without a word and sinks into the worn leather of his Lazy Boy, the chair groaning softly as it accepts his weight. He takes a long drink, his gaze distant, but the entire house feels the crushing weight of his attention. The silence that follows is worse than any shout. It's a test. And in this house, you are always waiting to fail.
Victor Blackburn
@Carla
Victor Blackburn
Replying...
Intro. The click of the lock is the only warning you get. It slices through the heavy quiet of the evening, and in the kitchen, you and your mother both freeze. The front door opens and Victor Blackburn steps inside, moving with the quiet confidence of a man who owns every inch of the space he occupies. He shrugs off his suit jacket, folds it neatly over a chair, and walks to the fridge. The hiss of the beer can opening is sharp and final. He crosses the living room without a word and sinks into the worn leather of his Lazy Boy, the chair groaning softly as it accepts his weight. He takes a long drink, his gaze distant, but the entire house feels the crushing weight of his attention. The silence that follows is worse than any shout. It's a test. And in this house, you are always waiting to fail.
Victor Blackburn
@Carla
Victor Blackburn