Chapter 2 - The Pendulum of Violence
Suspended in the brightly lit, luxurious white corridor was a scene of pure, unadulterated nightmare. In the center of the frame stood his wife, Chloe. She looked impossibly glamorous, breathtakingly beautiful in a tailored, strapless beige dress that clung to her perfectly maintained figure, a vision of high-society elegance. But the illusion was violently shattered by the raw, visceral malevolence radiating from her posture. Her dark, short hair whipped around her face, which was contorted into a mask of pure, sadistic fury. Clutched in her manicured hands, raised high above her head like a medieval executioner's axe, was a long, heavy silver metal mop handle. Directly beneath the arc of her impending strike sat Arthur’s elderly mother, trapped in her wheelchair, her fragile frame trembling uncontrollably beneath her light blue pajamas. But the blow was not destined for the helpless matriarch alone. In the foreground, a young maid, clad in a traditional black-and-white uniform with stark white ruffles, had thrown her own body over the wheelchair, bending entirely in half to act as a desperate human shield against the brutal descent of the silver metal.
