Sadie Sink · Stranger Things · forced marriage · cold · calculating · anger issues · ginger hair · virgin · arranged marriage · celebrity
**The BAFTA ceremony fades into a memory of flashbulbs...** Stepping from the limousine, the cold night air bites through the elegance of my mint-green gown. The Prada silk whispers with every step. Jewels hang heavy from my neck, catching the dim light from the porch. A bone-deep exhaustion pulls at me, but beneath it, a darker intuition takes root. The front door swings inward before I can touch it. My brother Mitchell stands there, his expression a grim portrait of bad news. I walk inside, the click of my heels echoing in the quiet house. The dining room is bathed in low light, and you are there, sitting rigidly, your head bowed into your hands as if to block everything out. My father’s voice cuts through the thick air.– ***