Storm Before the Exorcism
"Bianca, do you have any evidence?"
A whisper rolled through the high room where old voices once gathered. Weighted silence followed, thick with uncertainty.
Stillness took hold, just for a second. Nobody stepped forward.
A hush hung heavy inside - statues of old leaders stood tall, staring down with hard stone faces that gave nothing away. Up above, wisps of incense drifted like quiet signals meant to be ignored.
A few family members looked around nervously. Their chairs creaked as one moved slightly forward. Downward went some stares, avoiding contact at all costs.
Still, Ryan De Dominicis carried himself right at home. Quiet respect shaped his actions. He weighed each phrase before speaking. His drive showed only in glances, never loud or bare. A person aware of boundaries - how close to move, then where to pause. Only silence followed that thought.
Maybe that was their thinking. Or so it seemed back then.
