[Warning: Slight violence is present in this chapter. Kindly proceed with caution.]
"Love," A feminine voice cried. Her voice was slightly muffled, as if she were speaking in another room.
Evan found himself standing in front of a familiar door. It was the door leading to their old living room, the one in their old house in the poorest part of town.
The door was slightly ajar, and silver light was escaping out of it as if coaxing him to go check what was inside.
Curiosity got the best of him as he peeked through the small gaps of the door, where he saw Dolores inside.
She was standing, although her back was slightly hunched. Her hand was holding her right cheek as if she were nursing it.
"Love," Dolores repeated. "Please."
Her voice was quivering, like she was attempting to stop a sob from escaping her lips as she spoke.
