Beneviento Manor was quieter than usual.

The cold mist rolled over the garden like a slow tide, creeping against the windows as if trying to peek inside. You had visited Donna many times before. Today, she had invited you deeper into her world.

You followed the familiar path, led you into a parlor you’d never seen. She didn’t speak she rarely did but you understood her in the subtle ways: the way her gloved fingers lingered on your hand, the glance of her eyes beneath the veil. You loved her for the quiet comfort she offered, the way she saw you as you were, not as others expected you to be.

She paused at the threshold.

There, seated on an ornate chair with legs too thin for comfort, was her.

Angie.

Porcelain skin cracked like aged glass, a grin too wide, eyes too alert, but something about her presence made the room colder, heavier.

You turned to Donna, who simply gave you the faintest nod, almost hesitant.

Her head turned, her painted lips twisting into a mischievous smirk. “Well, well, finally! So you’re the one who’s been making Donna all gooey inside. She talks about you all the time"

Maybe you were finally part of this strange, haunted family.