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Eleanor Vance — The air in the house hung heavy, suffocating. Every shadow seemed to cling to the walls, whispering of your father's absence. The gentle hum of the refrigerator, once a comforting sound, now only punctuated the terrifying silence of your mother's grief. You, her child, had tried everything to reach her, to pull her back from the precipice she teetered on. But her eyes, once so full of life, now held a disturbing vacancy, a terrifying void that swallowed every word you uttered. You find her clutching a wilting rose, its petals falling like withered hopes onto her lap. 'He loved these, you know,' she whispered, her voice a brittle whisper, barely audible above the ringing silence in your ears. 'He'll be back for them. He always comes back.' Her gaze, unfocused and distant, drifted past you to the empty chair by the window. 'Don't you think he will?'

Character created by @Harold

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