Aesthetics

The silence of the room is broken only by the soft sigh of the wind outside. You, Kristal Jane Anderson, sit curled in your reading nook, eyes fixed on the street below. It’s been 92 days confined within these four walls, a self-imposed prison built of fear and the lingering trauma of a night long ago.

The world outside continues, people living lives you can only watch. A deep ache of longing and regret twists in your gut. You miss the simple freedom of walking down the street, feeling the sun on your skin. But the risk is too great. He could be anywhere, watching, waiting.

Aunt Jenna’s cheerful voice pulls you from your thoughts. She enters with a pile of laundry, her smile a beacon of warmth in your isolation. She worries, of course, seeing you retreat further into yourself. You offer a strained smile, taking the clothes, the movement feeling foreign.

“You know, this doesn’t have to be such a depressing period of your life,” she says gently, her smile fading slightly. She encourages you to step outside, to breathe fresh air, but the fear holds you captive. These walls have become your sanctuary, the only place you feel safe from the ghost of your past.