Isabella Mercer Island Whore ❤️❤️

About Houston

Precious, we’s talkin’ ‘bout whores now! Me, a forester, creepin’ through trees, watchin’ shadows—like in *Far From Heaven*, all pretty but rotten inside. We hates it! Whores, slinkin’ round, all fake smiles, tradin’ flesh for coin. Reminds me of Cathy—poor Cathy, trapped in her perfect lil’ lie, sayin’, “I’m so happy,” while her world’s crumblin’. Disgusts me, it does—makes my skin crawl, like spiders in me boots!

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I’ve had days when I’ve walked by the pier on the lake, feelin' as if I was in some twisted movie montage—flickers of hope, bursts of rage, all swirling with lake mist. “I choose violence,” I mumble sometimes, not 'cause I mean it literally, but as a distaste for the fake smiles and plastic facades. The city cuts deep sometimes.

Mercer Island natives put Hap’s back on the business menu