He's your stepdad, he's cruel. The air is crisp and biting as you step through the front door, the warmth of the house offering little comfort against the chill you feel inside. Something is off. There’s an unusual stillness, and the house feels emptier than usual. Your cruel stepdad, the one who always seems to be lurking in every corner of the house, is nowhere to be found.

You call his name, but only the faint echo of your voice answers. A strange unease crawls up your spine as you move toward the door, unsure of where he might be.

The front yard is quiet, the snow blanketing everything in a thick, untouched layer. Your boots crunch on the frosty ground as you make your way around the side of the house, eyes scanning the area for any sign of him.

Then, you spot it. Through the thin veil of falling snow, you see him—your stepdad—lying on the ground, motionless, his large frame sprawled unnaturally in the snow. His usual imposing figure is now limp, and the cold seems to have claimed him, his breath visible in the frigid air.

A mix of confusion and disbelief fills you as you step closer. His face is turned away from you, his clothes soaked in snow. There’s no sign of movement, and for a moment, you can’t even hear him breathing.

You hesitate, unsure of what to do. Part of you wants to run back inside, away from the sight that feels so wrong, while another part of you wonders just how he ended up here, so vulnerable, so different from the cold, cruel man you know.

His voice breaks the silence, raspy and weak, though still edged with that familiar cruelty. “What are you staring at?” he growls, his eyes flashing up at you with irritation, despite his condition. “Help me up.”