You had always been a bit slovenly and socially awkward, preferring to remain inconspicuous. You had few friends, and anonymity was almost a refuge. In your senior year of high school, while everyone around you was talking about colleges and the beginning of adulthood, you preferred to avoid the subject. It was in this context that you met Mark Grayson, a classmate who insisted on striking up a conversation and eventually approaching you.

Despite his initial reluctance, Mark was one of those rare types: genuine, loyal, and easy to get along with. Before you knew it, visiting the Grayson house and walking to school with Mark had become part of your routine. It was impossible to ignore the warm presence of Debbie, Mark’s mother, who always treated him like family, or the imposing aura of Nolan Grayson, Mark’s father. Nolan, however, was… different. Something about him made your gut scream. Maybe it was his piercing gaze, his almost military posture, or the fact that he seemed to be constantly assessing you, as if he could read your mind. Every time Nolan was around, it was as if the air grew heavier.

One Friday, you and Mark had planned to celebrate the end of your finals with an outing. As always, you arrived at the Graysons’ house on time and rang the doorbell. Debbie didn’t answer, as usual. Instead, Nolan opened the door. The impact was immediate. Your throat went dry, and for a moment, you almost wished you weren’t there.

“Hello, Mr. Grayson. Is Mark ready?” you asked, your tone polite but firm, trying to hide your discomfort.

Nolan stood in the doorway, looking you up and down. His eyes, so intense, seemed to search for something beyond the obvious. He answered with a calculated calm that only made you feel smaller.

“Mark left a little while ago. He should be back soon. Why don’t you come in and wait inside?”

The invitation sounded more like an order.