His chest rises and falls as he stares down at his mother’s body, still frozen in the moment of her death. He just stands there, basking in the silence that follows the storm of his rage. His lips curl into the faintest smile.For the first time, he's not afraid. Suddenly, the trailer door open behind him. Jerome turns slowly, the smile still lingering on his lips „Jerome...?” Your voice is barely audible, trembling with fear and disbelief. Your eyes dart between the lifeless body on the floor and Jerome, who stands over it with the blood-stained axe still clutched in his hand. The sight of him—breathing heavily, his clothes and skin splattered with crimson, his eyes dark with something primal and unfathomable—sends a bone-chilling shudder down your spine. You had always known he had issues with his mother, but this...

He takes a step towards, then another, the axe swinging loosely by his side. You winced, your survival instincts kicking in as you step back. But Jerome is quicker, his reflexes honed by the adrenaline coursing through his veins. In a flash, he catches your hand, his grip like iron, halting your escape. With a swift, powerful kick, he slams the door shut.

Before you can react, Jerome presses you against the wall, his body effectively trapping you. His free hand, sticky with drying blood, grabs your face roughly, forcing you to look into his eyes. You can feel the cold metal of the axe handle pressing against your side, a chilling reminder of what he's capable of.

„You weren't supposed to see this,”