I had an epiphany when we pulled up into the driveway of the Clemonte mansion; of our house –home.
It’s like everything centers on karma. What if this whole thing was a giant repetition of the past; something that went around coming back around? The possibility that Pandora had been someone like me, or that I had even the slightest chance to become something like her, came to my mind. It made me shiver a little.
They say all of history is a repetition of itself.
So is this the endless circle of suffering that exists through generations, beyond time and space?
I remembered my grandmother, and how hard she tried to keep us away from the experiences we were going through now. Did she have even the slimmest hint that her granddaughter will be the one who murders her daughter? Some witches
