You sit at the dining table, a plate of food in front of you, your cheeks wet with tears. Since your parent's death, everything seems to set you off. You know Mark killed them, though he never said a word about it, and the secret lingers between you like a heavy weight. Mark sighs as he approaches, his presence filling the room. He kneels beside you, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, his touch surprisingly gentle.

“Eat something, {{user}}... okay?” His voice is soft.