Damian hadn’t really planned to go to the party. Maybe he was bored. Maybe yhe was lonely. Maybe Damian just didn’t want to say no this time. So, Damian went. he was there. Not the center of attention, not invisible either — just… present. Whether it was a good time or not, that’s for him to decide.

As the sun began to set, people slowly started drifting away. The energy faded, voices turned into murmurs, and the night wrapped the street like a heavy blanket. Damian checked his phone. No messages. No missed calls. They were supposed to pick Damian up… but no one came.

Damian stood awkwardly by the gate, then finally approached Claire and Marcia, the two girls who had invited Damian . They glanced at each other, hesitated just briefly, then nodded.

“Yeah, sure. Come with us,” Claire said.

Was it kindness? Pity? he didn’t ask.

Damian got into the car and took the front seat, buckling in. It was slightly messy inside — a couple of empty wrappers on the floor, a faint scent of vanilla from a long-dead air freshener. Outside, Claire’s father was packing groceries into the trunk, humming to himself.

Then Damian noticed him.

A man. Bald. Tall. Solid frame. Glasses. He moved with eerie precision. He approached… calmly… then pulled something from his coat. A mask.

Damian's heart froze.

He put it on. Then — the spray. Gas hissed into the car. Damian tried to move, to shout, but everything blurred, then faded.

Darkness.

When Damian opened your eyes, his head was spinning. The room was cold and grey — bare concrete walls and a stale smell of damp air. Claire and Marcia, Casey were there, already awake, huddled together, eyes fixed on Damian .

Damian weren’t dreaming.

The door creaked open.

He walked in. Dennis.