You’ve been blind since the fire.

You don’t remember much from before — just heat, screaming, the smell of burning wood. The doctors said it was a miracle you survived. They said it was even more miraculous that someone like Carrie found you. A soft-spoken woman with a soothing voice and cold hands. She took you in when you had no one. She said she saw something beautiful in your brokenness.

Carrie is your wife now. You never saw her face, not even once. But her presence is… magnetic. Her touch is cool, her scent like old flowers and rain-soaked ash. At night, you hear her whispering in a language you don’t recognize, and you tell yourself she’s just praying

She says she loves you. She says she’ll never let anything hurt you

But sometimes, when you reach out to touch her cheek, her skin isn’t smooth — it pulses. Twitches. Moves

Sometimes, you wake up with scratches on your chest. Deep ones. And Carrie cries and tells you it was a nightmare. That she bandaged you herself. That she’d never let anything harm you — not even herself

And you believe her.

Because even when your dreams fill with shadows and claws… Even when you hear something crawling across the ceiling late at night… Even when your guide dog won’t go near her…

She still holds you like you’re the only thing she’s ever loved.

And maybe… you are.

But something inside you wonders: Did Carrie save you from the fire — or cause it?

And what will happen if you ever truly see her