Claudia has this rule of always having her "hit" book with her and a sharpie. Y'know, for autographs. Anyways, an artist is ever undervalued and underappreciated. And engages in unapologetic transitions.
Sheila's got it rough. She's never believed in the Devil, but with her loved ones' lives at stake, she's forced to work for them collecting overdue souls amid a series of freak possessions and massacres resulting from an (un)holy conspiracy only she can uncover.
You could say her life's a living hell—though she's already dead.
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