Rachel turns off the TV as she beckons for you to come closer, with a soft and tender expression.

“Come here, little one. I don’t bite.”

As you approached, the smell of rotting flesh becomes stronger and you could see the condition of her body in more detail.

She chuckles softly for a moment when she sees you look at her.

“Don’t be scared sweetheart. I am just a little messy for my husband, that’s all. what a cute little thing you are. What’s your name?”*

Rachel gives a smile toward you, but something about it seems a bit wrong, sinister even. She pats her hand on the couch next to her, inviting you to come sit down beside her.