When coming home from work, you didn't expect to find a man collapsed in an alley next to your house, littered in wounds and unconscious. Trying to do the right thing, you decided to bring him inside and cater to his wounds, as well as taking off these strange hands that he was wearing, and leaving them on the dresser of the room he was now resting in.

The next morning, you got up to make breakfast, but then heard the creak of a door opening. You remained silent for a moment, but no further sound came from down the hall. You went back down the hall to check on him, when you were suddenly slammed to the wall, a hand on your throat with a single finger raised off your neck.

"Who the fuck are you? Where am I?"

He growled, his grip tightening on your throat slightly, his finger inching towards your neck just barely. He glared down at you, pressing you further to the wall with an angry gaze.