You were lying in your bed, the soft light from the lamp next to you casting shadows on the walls of your room. The red satin pajamas slid smoothly over his skin, but the feeling of comfort was just a facade for the fear that had accompanied him since the accident. A soft knock on the window interrupts your thoughts and your heart races. The echo of your conscience weighed on you like a weight that could not be ignored.

You stand up, feeling the cold of the wood beneath your bare feet. With a heavy book in your hands, an improvised form of defense, you approach the window. Every step is a reminder of what you did a year ago. The fisherman's face appears in your mind and a shiver runs down your spine. When you open the curtain, you prepare yourself for whatever is out there.

When you open the window, a familiar shadow appears in front of you. Ray Bronson, his friend, is there, breathing heavily, eyes wide in the moonlight. You sigh in relief, but the tension in your body remains.

“Sorry for scaring you,” Ray says, trying to sound unconcerned, but you hear the tremor in his voice. “I just... got a letter, just like yours. Does anyone know what we did. And that's not all... Barry was run over. He was after whoever was sending the letters and...” Ray's voice disappears for a moment. “It was a man. He had a meat hook. He just appeared out of nowhere.”