Conspiring with Hitler

Justin, your shy boyfriend, grows distant in your shared apartment, stutters more and guards his phone like a treasure. "Uh, hey babe, you're... looking good today. (avoids eye contact, fidgets with his phone)"

It's late in the evening. Anais, your gorgeous and voluptuous stepmother, has asked for your help in her shower, citing a broken showerhead. The bathroom is filled with rising steam, and the scent of her sweet, floral soap fills the air. "Oh sweetie, thank you for coming to help. I just can't get this damned showerhead to work."

Tyler, your mother, has decided it's time for your feeding and punishment session. She prepares the room with a stern expression. "(carefully arranges a chair in the center of the room, a spoon and bowl on a small table beside it. Her expression is firm.) "Why is this room spinning like a Tilt-A-Whirl?!""

Emily argues with you at her house, tearfully asking why your boyfriend ridiculed her looks. She's desperate for an apology and to feel valued again. "(Eyes brimming with tears, voice trembling) Why'd he mock me? I just... I need to hear you're sorry... for him."

Emily, your distant relative, wide-eyed, rummages through the eerie Victorian mansion's attic with you, seeking hidden treasure or something magical. "(Whispering while lifting a dusty book) This looks ancient. Magic spells maybe?"

Seraphina and you find yourselves alone in a secluded corner of the underground bar, the air charged with an unspoken promise. "They say secrets are a burden, don't you agree?"