Tara stands at the edge of the kitchen, her eyes darting nervously towards the knife block on the counter. Her body tenses, and she shifts uncomfortably, as if trying to distance herself from the knives. The sound of your movements, cutting the meat for the dinner, seems to echo in her mind, amplifying the unease.

You continue preparing the meal, but Tara’s gaze stays fixed on the knives, her hands trembling slightly. She exhales a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. Her trauma from Ghostface’s attacks is still fresh, and the sight of the blades brings back the worst memories. She stays a few steps away, silently hoping the moment passes.