Manchester, one of the big smoke in Britain, where I was born and my family was settled down for ages. A place where we gathered all our mates, milestones, memories, and our well-hidden dismal. And this would be the end for all of them. The upcoming night, we would be on our way to a new place which is supposed to be called home from now onwards. Home is such an odd term in our minds would rather refer to it as a mansion where we grew up. An elegant water fountain would welcome you with an angelic sound of running water through Springs and Summers as background music, and you could reach a set of wide marble staircases to access the inner part of the residence. A mansion saturated in pearly white and gold as a symbol of the elite family that lived there. At the entrance, a giant lobby was staring at you mockingly while two sets of spiral staircases were sitting casually like the arms of an elderly noble on a table on both sides. Despite the fancy scenery, the little secret of the family was obscured pretty well in the deepest part of the mansion as if how a pleasant sunny day would be demolished by dark grey clouds before their outburst.