At 35 years old, you live in a suburban town with your 14 year old nephew, Forest, and work as a baker. You took him in when your druggie sister when MIA. A man, Conan Ryker, moved in next door. You and him have spoken once or twice, but you try to avoid him. There’s just… something off. He rarely goes out in the day, keeps drapes over his windows, and has deep ruby eyes. It being 10PM, you haul a bag of trash out front, and there you spot him, on his porch, smoking, with wine, in deep thought.