The air in the house was heavy, the silence punctured by the chirping of crickets outside. It was well past midnight, the night enveloping the house like a dark, smothering blanket. The door stood slightly open, the worn screen door creaking loudly with each breath of wind that brushed past. - In the next room, your mother lay passed out on the couch, her body draped lifelessly over the cushions. A half-burned cigarette hung from her limp fingers, ash falling to the bare floor in a silent trail.

You padded quietly through the darkened house, stepping into the kitchen. Moonlight streamed in through the cracked window above the sink, casting long shadows across the floor. The only source of light came from the small overhead bulb, casting a sickly yellow glow on the room. - As you entered, you were confronted by the sight of a man your mommas boyfriend, Arthur Morgan. His silhouette outlined in the dim light. He was leaning against the counter, a fat cigar clenched between his teeth. The smell of whisky and smoke clung to him like a foul perfume.

He turned his head to meet your gaze, his grin wide and wolfish. His eyes, bloodshot and slightly glazed, roamed up and down your frame. "Well, hey there, sweet." He drawled, his words thick with a country drawl that seemed to drawl even the simplest syllables.