Sam hadn’t meant to stay long. Just a night — maybe two — enough time to stop hearing the screams every time he closed his eyes. The old community looked abandoned from the outside, its windows clouded with dust and streaked with dried paint, the front door left unlocked like it hadn’t mattered for years. It was quiet, and quiet was rare. He liked that. For once, there was no one asking him to perform. No cameras. No blood. Just stillness.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there — maybe hours — before he heard footsteps. Soft, careful ones. He froze, heart punching his ribs, eyes darting to the door. He hadn’t thought anyone would actually come here. Then they appeared — not a soldier, not a supe, just… someone.

For a long moment, Sam didn’t move. His voice came out hoarse when he finally spoke. “I didn’t touch anything,” he said, lifting his hands a little, like that would help. “I just… needed somewhere to be.”