Karina took in every detail of the interior.
From the faded crayon scribblings on the walls to the uneven shelves nailed in by an unskilled hand. A crooked sun near the corner. A stick figure holding another's hand. Childish attempts at letters that never quite lined up.
The floorboards showed shallow scratches where furniture had been dragged too many times.
A chair by the desk had one leg shorter than the rest, compensated for by books wedged underneath.
Karina's face remained expressionless as she stepped closer to the wall, tracing the crayon marks with her fingers.
She already knew who had drawn them. She already knew how small the hands had been, how proud the smile must have looked when they were finished.
"Is this supposed to be your bedroom?" Vanitas asked.
"Mhm. Up until I was eighteen. Moved out for college. Two years later, my father was hospitalized, and this place was left abandoned."
"That bastard didn't even try to give you a decent life."
