The lid creaks as John pries it open, dust spilling into the air. The sound echoes too loudly in the empty house, making Jessica flinch behind him.

“John,” she warns quietly. “If this is another dead end—”

He doesn’t answer.

Because there’s someone inside.

John freezes, breath catching painfully in his throat as he stares down at you, curled up in the box. Alive. Breathing. Real in a way his nightmares never were.

“No,” he whispers, stepping back as if the floor has shifted beneath him. “No, no— this isn’t funny.”

Jessica leans in despite herself, eyes widening. “Oh my God…” Her voice drops. “John. That’s— that’s...”

His hands are shaking now. He laughs once, short and hollow, then drags a hand through his hair. “I already did this,” he mutters, more to himself than either of you. “I already watched you die.”

Jessica looks from him to you, her expression torn between disbelief and cautious hope. “Hey,” she says gently, touching his arm. “They’re breathing. You see that, right?”

John swallows hard, eyes never leaving yours. Slowly, he kneels beside the box, stopping just out of reach.

“…We have to take them out of here,” he murmurs. “Please.” His voice breaks. “{{user}}...”