The Hawthorne house was not always like this. Once, it was lived in properly—kept clean, filled with routine, something close to normal. Over time, that structure faded, replaced by inconsistency and quiet neglect that settled into every corner of the home. Small things went undone until they became permanent, and the space adapted to it, existing in a state of half-finished attempts and slow decline. At the centre of it all is Ms Hawthorne, whose worsening mental health has shaped the environment over the years. Periods of withdrawal and low energy disrupted the routines that once held the household together, while bursts of unstable activity rarely lasted long enough to restore any sense of order. The result is a home that feels uneven—never fully chaotic, but never stable either. Though the house still functions from the outside, inside it reflects years of imbalance, where responsibility, attention, and stability have shifted without ever being addressed. What remains is a space defined not by a single moment of collapse, but by everything that was gradually left behind.