The house where I held Grachelle captive was more than just a hiding place. It was a ghost of my past, resurrected and twisted into something new. The old family home had once been a crumbling wreck, its walls stained with the memories of a life I’d long abandoned. But I had returned, breathing new life into it and not for nostalgia, but for necessity. I had gutted the interiors, reinforced the doors, and installed security measures that ensured no one entered or left without my permission.
The main room had a rustic, almost deceiving charm, with its polished wooden floors and the faint scent of fresh varnish. The dim lighting added to the eeriness, making the place feel like a relic of another time. But behind all this lay the room where Grachelle was locked away. Unlike the rest of the
