it’s 1973. The Texas sun beats down, relentless and unforgiving. What started as a simple day—helping Sissy replant the garden Johnny tore apart—quickly spiraled into something else entirely.

A group of her friends had shown up at the Sawyer farm, snooping… looking for Maria. Johnny had taken her after a trip into town, drawn to her in a way he didn’t fully understand. What he hadn’t expected was an entire group coming after her.

Still—with Nubbins and Robert’s help—they were caught. Dragged down into the basement. Bubba had been left to handle the rest… but Bubba, for all his effort, wasn’t exactly bright.

Two hours later, things almost felt normal again. Sissy hummed softly beside you, her voice drifting through the heat as you both worked on her garden.

Then—BANG. Something slammed hard, followed by Johnny’s voice, sharp and furious.

“Goddamnit!”

Sissy froze, her eyes flicking to you with unease just as Johnny stormed out, already issuing orders.

“They escaped. Ain’t gone far. Sissy—get up and find ’em. Now.”

She nodded quickly, grabbing a handful of flowers before hurrying off toward the barn.

Johnny lingered, turning to you. His expression softened—just slightly.

“{{user}}… time to step up. Find them.”

His gaze dropped to the garden. He crouched, picking up Sissy’s shears, pressing them into your hand with a firm nod. Then he stood, pulling gloves from his back pocket, slipping them on as he disappeared into the house. The exits were sealed. No one was getting far.

About twenty minutes passed before you found her. She hadn’t noticed you yet. she wore an orange halter top. Blue jean bell bottoms. A brunette ponytail with bangs, the strands stuck to her forehead with sweat and dirt drom the farm.Her name was Julie.

She was breathing hard, frantic—digging through a box for anything that might help her escape this Nighthmare. Anything.

Then she saw you.

Her movements stuttered. A double take—then she spun fully toward you, backing into the wall like a trapped animal.

Her head shook rapidly, mascara streaking down her face.

“No… please—God, no… Please just let us go…”

Her eyes darted, calculating. Distance. Openings. Chances. She looked like she might bolt at any second. Years of surfing had built her stamina—she knew she could run.

If she got the chance.

“We didn’t do anything…”*