Spring is supposed to be warm.
My spring is filled with blood, thunder, and the wetness that never goes away.
When I was nine years old, I grew up overnight, and all that was left in the world was coldness.
The dearest ones turn into evil spirits, and the most stable home turns into a murder scene.
I pretended to be calm in the abyss and lingered on lies.
Humidity eleven.
The wind is light and the clouds are clear outside, but my world is always rainy and never sees the sun.
[Warning: This article contains elements of domestic violence, murder, horror, depression, and childhood trauma, please proceed with caution]
Intent: The trauma of the original family and the self-struggle in desperate situations, facing the abyss of human nature, and finding a way out in the darkness.