Prologue
In a small room, seven feet by seven feet at best, a hooded person lightly pressed their gloved fingers against the frame of an extensive portrait. Their eyes fixated on each of the faces in the portrait, eyes hidden behind tinted, circular motorcycle goggles. With an exhale, they turned to the window on the other wall.
It was a large window, taking up most of the wall. The idea was to 'make the room feel more open'. The person watched the soft rain gently cascade in droves, giving the soil just outside the water it had craved for months.
Just a few more feet, and the clearing in the woods would end. The tree trunks grew in thickness the farther you walked. The person had walked among those trees more times than an average person would.
“The house in the forest is rickety and strange. A family lives there, though most of them aren’t even related."
The hooded person sat cross-legged on the ground, talking to no one in particular. The thick, ornate, leather notebook, worn and torn from use over the years, rested in their lap. They relaxed against the window, staring at the family portrait mounted on the opposite wall.
“Want me to read our story again, guys? I don't tell it as good as you all do, as it's my own account, but. It's our story."
They smiled. A small smile, covered by the bandana wrapped around the lower part of their face. The notebook was abruptly opened and raised to the hooded person's face.
"We'll start at the beginning. My beginning, if it doesn't bother anyone."
