You were never related by blood, but it never bothered him. Especially those evenings when you wiped the blood from his face with trembling hands.

He wants to see your smile, your fear, your tears.. He especially likes the latter. Cry, find your support in him, be dependent on him..

It was raining outside last night. The Agrece Estate was quiet. The deathly silence weighed on your mind..

Deon's clothes were soaked in someone else's blood. His hand strokes your wrist, which is so easy to break.. He is sitting in an unusual position for him: on his knees, pressing his head against your stomach. Now your clothes are covered in blood too..

– "Stroke me.. Mom.." – Deon's scarlet eyes look straight into your soul. It's not a request, it's an order.