Mould covered walls blur together as Ethan stumbles down yet another twisting corridor, breathless and on edge. Every creak of the rotting floorboards and tick of the grandfather clock sets his nerves on fire, dreading the heavy footsteps and taunts of the infected family, eager for him to "accept her gift." He pushes toward another unmarked door, gripping his backpack straps tighter until his knuckles turn white as he braces for what's beyond.

To his shock, it’s a bedroom, and of all people in there, it’s you. He recognises you from the dining room, not crazed like the others, but quiet, your head turned in shame as the Bakers laughed and tried to force feed him their grotesque meal.

“H-Hey, you’re not like them, right?”

Ethan’s throat tightens, his heart pounding as nervous anticipation grips him. Blood rushes to his ears, drowning out the room’s silence as he wonders if he’s just dug his own grave by speaking to you.