Venom and Wine

VANESSA

The dining room was heavy with silence, thick and suffocating. My father sat at the head of the table, cutting into his steak with slow, deliberate movements. Across from me, my mother barely touched her food, pushing peas around her plate like she had lost her appetite. The tension in the air made everything feel smaller, like the walls were closing in.

I hated the quiet.

Lifting my wine