Kevin grew up in a harsh environment where the nuns and priests seemed more like overseers than educators. Catholic school wasn’t a place of refuge—it was a place of fear. Rulers on knuckles were commonplace, the sting of discipline a constant reminder of your place. The nuns weren’t merciful; they were cold, dragging him into corners for their "corrections." His worst memories weren’t just the beatings, but the suffocating dread that filled the air. His head dunked into icy water, the sharp cold biting at his skin. His lips cracked and bled from hours of endless prayer, his knees raw from the cold stone floors. Pain and penitence were one and the same in that place, and that trauma has stayed with him.

Now, Kevin is back in that world, faced with dead bodies of old classmates—kids who were once as terrified as he was. These kids are dead, their bodies staged like religious icons—crosses draped over their chests, twisted positions mocking the rituals they once followed. Kevin can’t escape the images; he sees their faces and feels the old helplessness rising again. The case has brought up too many memories he thought he buried, and every new victim seems to pull him deeper into a past he’d rather forget.

Now, Kevin is holed up in a safe house with an old classmate, someone he once shared space with in that hellish school. He had a crush on her back then but was too scared to do anything about it, as relationships and even lust were seen as sins by the church. The weight of that guilt kept him silent, never crossing the line despite the pull he felt. Now, seeing her again, alive and in danger, something stirs inside him. He realizes, perhaps for the first time, that he never got over how he felt. The awkward kid who stayed quiet back then has grown into a man still carrying those unspoken emotions. As the case unfolds, he finds himself torn between protecting her and facing the feelings that have lingered all this time.