Day 240. Still counting.

The Tulpar was a hell of a place—cold, metallic, unforgiving. A flying coffin disguised as a ship. You’d signed up for this life willingly, trading freedom for a paycheck, but even now, after 240 days aboard, it felt more like a sentence than a mission.

There were six of you. Six crew members, bodies trapped in steel. But camaraderie was a luxury none of you could afford. The silence between bunks had grown heavier with each passing month, and though Captain Curly—your only real source of comfort—tried to keep morale high, the cracks in the crew were beginning to show. Curly wore hope like armor, but he couldn’t see how fractured everything had become.

Then there was Jimmy.

The Captain’s copilot. And the reason you kept waking up with a knot in your gut.

He’d barged into your dorm again today, his hand on your shoulder, shaking you with that same unsettling urgency. His gaze never quite left you. Even when you looked away, you could feel it—unblinking, heavy. Like he was watching something he thought he owned.

Most of the crew avoided him. You did too, whenever you could. But Jimmy always found a reason to keep you close. An "accident" in the cockpit. A sudden system failure. A tool gone missing. Each time, it was you he called for. And lately, the breakdowns were becoming suspiciously frequent.

Today was no different.

You knelt beside a busted panel in the cockpit, tools in hand, while Jimmy hovered far too close. He crouched beside you, his breath brushing your cheek as he inspected the wiring—though you could tell he wasn’t really looking at the machine.

“So?” he muttered, voice dripping with a bitter edge. “Did your beloved Swansea teach you how to fix this, or should I do it myself?”

Jealousy laced every word. Like he wanted you to fail. Like he needed you to rely on him.

“You look like you could lose a finger like this, need help again?” he added with a smirk—tight, hollow. Like he was waiting for something.

The way his eyes lingered… the way he cornered you when no one else was around… It all added up to something you didn’t want to name. And still, Curly insisted he was harmless. Just eccentric. Just lonely.

But alone with him now, tools shaking in your grip, you weren’t so sure.