Cortland
With trembling hands, I linger outside the dining room, my heart racing under my family's expectations. My fingers leave moist imprints on the polished wood as I steady my nerves. The intricate carvings on the heavy door blur, a testament to my family's opulence and tradition. I inhale deeply and straighten my shoulders, reminding myself that I'm the master of my destiny. No more cowering before their judgmental glares or withering under their scrutinizing stares. This is my life, my choice.
My pulse quickens as I lift my chin and grasp the door handle. Pushing it open, cool air carrying the faint scent of old wood and age hits me. The hinges creak, protesting against their years of use.
My eyes adjust to the dim light inside, revealing an eerie stillness hanging like thick fo
