RHEA
Something’s wrong.
Not wrong in the obvious way—no disasters, no screaming, and certainly no blood. Wrong in the quiet way. The kind that makes the back of my neck itch.
My landlord finally fixed the apartment. Not patched-up fixes either. Real ones. The ceiling doesn’t leak anymore, which means no more waking up every few hours to dump out a bucket like some kind of i***t. The heating works. Properly. I don’t wake up shivering anymore. And the rats—
Gone.
I don’t trust it.
People don’t suddenly become decent for no reason. Especially not my shitty landlord who’d rather have the city mayor tear the building down than spend a penny on renovations.
And then there’s Voss Atelier.
Just like Damien said. Just like I already suspected but refused to believe—because believing in nice
