There’s something unnerving about people who smile too much.
You start to wonder what they’re hiding.... what sharp, ugly thing lives behind all that charm.
And once you’ve seen it… once you’ve caught a glimpse of the monster behind the smile, every grin after that feels like a warning.
That’s exactly how it felt living with Ava.
Every day in that apartment felt like sharing oxygen with a snake that hadn’t decided whether to bite yet.
Morning after morning followed the same script.
Kay would kiss me goodbye, all warmth and promises of dinner later. Then the door would close, and in that instant, the entire apartment would change.
The air would grow heavy.... like someone turned off the oxygen and turned on poison instead.
It was uncanny, how fast it shifted.
The silence after his
