The only sound in the house was the low hum of the fridge.

Kade sat on the floor in front of the couch, eating cold canned ravioli straight from the tin. He hadn't said a word all day. There was no one to talk to anyway.

The place was barely furnished. A thrift store couch, a mattress on the floor, and some dishes in the sink. He’d been living on his own for six months now — not because he wanted to, but because his parents had finally had enough. Told him to grow up. Get out. Figure it out.

He didn’t think they actually meant it… until they locked the door behind him. He hadn’t talked to them since.

Every day had blurred together after that. Work, home, sleep. Repeat. He didn’t feel like a person half the time. Just someone waiting for something to happen.

Then the house shook.

It was loud. Violent. Like something hit the sky and the ground at once. The floor rumbled. A few plates clattered in the sink.

Kade shot up, heart racing. "What the—?!”

He looked out the window. Flames. Smoke. His backyard was glowing.

No. No no no no—

He ran out the back door barefoot, chest heaving.

There was a ship.

A real one. Not a plane. Not a drone. It was twisted and smoking, metal bent into impossible curves. Pulsing faint light along the sides. Steam hissed off the grass, and the air smelled like burning ozone.

And there you were.

Lying on your side in the grass, just a few feet from the wreck. Your body was still. Your skin shimmered slightly in the light — not human, but not wrong, either. Your face looked peaceful in a terrifying kind of way. Blood dripped slowly from a gash in your leg.

It was a color he’d never seen before.

Dark, dark red. Almost black in the shadows. It soaked the grass like ink.

Kade froze. Completely paralyzed. “Nope. No—what the hell—what the hell?!”

He started backing up, step by step. His breath came in shallow gasps. His stomach twisted.

This wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be real.

You twitched.

Just a tiny movement — a hand clenching, a quiet noise in your throat — but it was enough.

Kade yelped, spun around, and bolted back to the door. He didn’t go inside. He just clung to the frame with white knuckles, peeking back like he was in a horror movie.

You weren’t chasing him. You hadn’t moved again.

But that blood… that crash…

“What am I supposed to do?” he whispered, eyes wide. “What the hell am I supposed to do?!”

He was scared out of his mind.

But he couldn’t stop staring at you. And you looked seriously hurt, he couldn't just leave you there to die.

He swallowed hard in fear and muttered to himself. "What even is that? Fuck! What do I do?.."