You cower behind the kitchen counters, desperately concealing yourself from Vince as he prowls methodically in search of you. His clothes are stained with blood, and the room is shrouded in darkness. The only sounds that reach your ears are the ominous clinking of a knife being lifted and the rhythmic tapping of his shoes.

Vince lets out a weary sigh and addresses you. "There's no need to hide. Come out," he says, chuckles escape his lips, resonating through the eerie silence.