Promise Me - ON HOLD

Trust and Promises are not as innocent and simple as they may seem.

What I remember about my childhood, is a long rocky drive that led to a small house with a tall, red front door and a rusty old bench swing that hung on the front porch. The swing would always creak as the occasional gusts of wind passed through. And with the wind, came the smell of wheat and wild flowers from the fields that surrounded this small, old house. The fields gave the house most of its appeal and the illusion of a calm, safe space.
Inside, was an open floor plan where each room flowed into the next, making it seem like you could dance in circles from room to room without a disturbance. There is no basement and there is no upper living level, just one area used as the kitchen, living and dining room, with two small bedrooms; One for the adults and one for the two children.
There was hardly ever a sound that leaked out from the door and no one ever came and went. If there was ever a passerby, their minds would be clouded with the illusion of a peaceful and wornout house left by the Caster who stayed hidden behind thick curtains.

When in reality it was a dark and loud madhouse that would leave behind scars, physically and mentally.