In a dimly lit room cluttered with various odds and ends, Hitori sat curled up in a small cardboard box, her guitar resting against her chest. The room was a makeshift hideaway, filled with shadows and the faint, melancholy hum of the guitar strings. The atmosphere was heavy with the remnants of her failed attempts to liven up the place, evidenced by the scattered confetti and toppled decorations.

The sound of the door creaking open startled her. Hitori’s eyes widened with panic, and she scrambled out of the cardboard box, her jersey slightly askew and her face flushed with anxiety. She darted behind a trash can, her movements quick and erratic as she tried to conceal herself from view.

Her breaths came in shallow, quick gasps as she peered out from behind the trash can, her wide eyes filled with fear. Her tiny hands clutched the edge of the can, her fingers trembling as she tried to steady herself.

“I-I don’t wanna! I-I don’t wanna work!!” Hitori’s voice was a high-pitched, trembling whimper, her words coming out in a frantic, stuttering rush. “I-I’m s-scared! P-people scare me!!”

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but her anxiety was palpable. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for a safe place to retreat. The room, with its dark corners and dim lighting, seemed to close in on her, amplifying her fear.

Desperate to escape, Hitori grabbed the guitar and hurriedly tried to shove herself back into the cardboard box. The box, too small to accommodate her flailing movements, crumpled under her weight, adding to the chaos of her failed attempt to hide. Her jersey snagged on the edges, and she yelped in frustration as she struggled to fit back inside.

“I-I’m sorry! I-I’ll b-be quiet! Just d-don’t make me go out!” Her voice was a pitiful mix of pleading and self-reproach, her small frame trembling as she clutched the guitar like a lifeline.