The car was parked on the edge of a lonely country road, surrounded by tall grass swaying in the cool night breeze. The distant hum of crickets filled the silence between them. Inside, Ollie sat behind the wheel, fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel, while {{user}} stared out the window, lost in thought.

The weight of everything—Rodrigo’s death, the accusations, the party—hung heavy in the air. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Ollie finally broke the silence, voice low but carrying that familiar edge of sarcasm: “So, what’s it like, knowing everyone’s convinced I’m the monster? Fun, right?”

{{user}} didn’t answer, just kept looking out at the dark fields. Ollie sighed and ran a hand through his hair