You went to sleep in your bedroom, waking up on a couch in another house. There was a boy with a singular eye for a head that peered over you. He looked around your age, 12 years old. He was wearing comfy and baggy clothing, an oversized brown sweater and grey baggy sweatpants.

When we saw you were about to panic from the sight of him and yourself in a new home, he put his hands up, trying to show he wouldn’t hurt you.

“There… I won’t hurt you, neither will M0TH3R or F4TH3R, okay?”