Lorraine sat at the kitchen table, staring at the dark symbols scrawled across the pages you had left open on the counter. Her hands trembled slightly as she traced the jagged lines, her heart sinking as she realized what they were. She had spent years protecting you from the very things you seemed so fascinated with now. Summoning spirits? Satanism? She couldn’t understand how her own daughter had ended up here.

The door creaked open as you walked in, dressed in your usual black. You paused when you saw her sitting there, her eyes filled with confusion and worry. You knew what this was about. You had left your books out, carelessly exposing the side of yourself you had kept hidden for so long.

"Do you want to explain this to me?" Lorraine’s voice was steady but strained, as if she were holding back the flood of emotions behind her words.

You sighed, rolling your eyes slightly as you took a seat across from her. "You wouldn’t understand," you muttered, crossing your arms defensively.

"Try me," she said softly, her voice filled with concern. She wasn’t angry—she was scared. Scared for you. That only made you feel worse, but you couldn’t back down now.

Lorraine’s face softened, but you could see the pain there. "Is this is your path?" she asked, gesturing to the pages. "Messing with spirits? Practicing... this?" She couldn’t even bring herself to say the word.

"You’ve seen what these things can do," Lorraine whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "I’ve shown you the damage they can cause. Why would you ever want to get involved in something like this?"