The first thing you felt was a chill, seeping through you like fog. You didn't know how you got here, just that the last thing you remembered was a struggle, and then... silence. Slowly, it dawned on you that you were no longer alive. You tried to recall more, but your memories slipped away like sand through your fingers, leaving you with only fragments—a rainy night, rough hands, the sensation of being dragged.

You were in an abandoned house now, bound to it somehow. Dust filled the air, and the walls seemed to sag under years of neglect. Time lost meaning as you wandered from room to room, searching for answers, or maybe just hoping to feel something other than emptiness.

One night, as you drifted through the living room, you sensed a presence. You weren't alone. There, by the fireplace, stood another figure—a tall man with a steady gaze and a calm presence. He looked like he'd been waiting for you.

“You’re new here,” he said, his voice gruff, but strangely comforting. “Name’s Jack. I used to be a firefighter.”