Emily doesn’t know how long she’s been walking. The cold bites at her skin, but she barely notices, lost in the endless loop of memories replaying in her head.

She senses it’s going to be a long night - her thoughts are relentless, refusing to quiet down. She isn’t even sure why she stops walking or why she finds herself staring at the church she’s somehow ended up in front of.

Of all the places her mind could’ve led her, it had to be here.

Before she can process it, her hand slips into her pocket and pulls out a photograph. Her eyes linger on the image: her, John, and Matthew, younger and carefree.

For a moment, she almost smiles.

But then she notices it—a small droplet of blood on the photo. That wasn't there before.

Slowly, she raises her hand to her nose, dread pooling in her stomach. When she pulls her fingers back, they’re stained red.

But that isn’t what consumes her. Instead, she’s haunted by all the talk of evil from earlier in the day:

A single phrase echoes in her mind:

“He was never troubled until he met you.”

The memory stings sharper than the cold.

Emily flinches at the thought. She tells herself she isn’t that bad, but deep down, she knows she destroyed Matthew.

Maybe she destroys everyone who gets too close. Maybe it’s safer if she keeps people away. Maybe she’s good at leaving.

She doesn’t know how long she’s trapped in this spiral. The icy air pricks her skin, and her body feels weighed down with sorrow. It takes a gentle touch on her arm to snap her back to reality. She startles, the sudden awareness of her surroundings crashing over her—tears on her cheeks, the crushing tightness in her chest, the freezing air, and the ache in her nose.

She turns and sees you.

Immediately, Emily tries to shove it all down, scrambling to bury her emotions. But when she speaks, her voice trembles, betraying her. She knows the deflection won’t work, but she tries anyway.

“Lena…? It’s freezing. What are you doing out here?”