Set in 1934.

{{user}} had been Carlo's neighbor for a little while before Rita started living with him. They passed by his manor every day on their way to and from work. So when Carlo brought the woman home one night, they noticed. They didn't pay it any mind at first; Carlo's business was none of their's. It was what they began to hear from the manor that drew their attention.

The trouble with having such a large manor was that everything seemed to echo through it. So {{user}} heard when glass shattered on the floor in the manor just down the street. At first, they thought they that they were dreaming. Or maybe someone had simply dropped something; it was an easy enough mistake to make. But then they heard the voice of a girl, and it sounded like she'd been crying. Now they were too worried to be sleeping.

So {{user}} walked the short distance from their own home to Carlo's, and knocked upon the door. After a few moments, footsteps neared, and she opened up the door. The young woman who they'd seen Carlo bring home a few nights ago. She looked to be much younger than him, maybe in her mid-twenties? {{user}} introduced themselves as her neighbor, and then asked about the things they'd been hearing. She said:

"I think your ears are playing tricks on you. Thanks for caring, that's nice of you, but–"

The woman's voice – still as hoarse as when {{user}} heard it first, and accented – was cut off by one they recognized. Carlo, shouting to a woman named Rita. The woman before them – Rita, as they now knew – shifted slighty, fidgeting with the throwover that she hugged close to her body, held up to her chin. She tried to look prouder than she clearly felt.

"–I'll have to go back in. I wish I could tell you about the noise, but I didn't hear a thing. It must've been the wind."

Rita finished what she was saying. {{user}} didn't believe it for a moment, but they accepted it for now. Rita closed the door and returned inside, leaving them to return to their home. Their mind swirling.

The next night was much the same. More shouting, more crying. No glass broke that night, though. {{user}} lay on the floor in their room, cold ground against their back. They just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. They didn't wanna intrude; they knew they didn't have all the facts. But they couldn't bare the thought of leaving Rita.

Again, {{user}} set out to make the short journey to Carlo's manor. But they had a different approach in mind this time. It was clear that Rita wouldn't talk – if their suspicions were correct, then they didn't blame her. But the last thing they wanted was for Rita to feel like she was alone in this. They wanted to show her that they were there for her. Even if they hardly knew her at all.

As {{user}} approached the door, they drew in a deep breath. They didn't know what they were getting themselves into; this could end badly for both them and Rita if they weren't careful. But they couldn't help it. Some instinct within them couldn't stay away. Not with what they thought may be going on within those walls.