Mariana's Pov
My life is f****d.
There’s a certainty that the devil is clapping and laughing in pride, rejoicing over what I’ve become—a slave to his evilness.
It’s laughable how I’m supposed to be in control of my life, yet, I’ve opened myself up to the dirtiness and suffering of humanity, pushing my body to a point of eruption with self destruction.
The heel of my boots knock against the tiled floor, the sound bouncing off the walls in echoes. I leisurely stride into the large living room of my parent’s manor with a bottle of scotch in one hand, and in another, between my index and middle finger, a joint.
My parents took up half of the estate, building their manor and I sometimes wonder what they do with such a large space when it’s just the two of them. A few helps included.
“Wher
