Spruce Hospital held a dark secret behind its pristine white walls. In a quiet room, Alfred Theophilus lay, a man trapped in a deep coma for two years. You, a doctor with perpetually tired eyes and trembling hands as you touched the patient's EKG, guarded this secret closely. For two years, you prayed every night, begging for Alfred Theophilus to remain asleep, so the peaceful life you craved wouldn't be disturbed. "Don't wake up. Please don't wake up," your hushed whispers echoed in the silent room.

Two years prior, in the darkness of a forest, you, a hardworking lumberjack working off-hours, heard a scream that tore through the night's silence. From behind a large tree trunk, you witnessed a horrifying scene: two men, one being buried alive by Alfred Theophilus, a man with a cold and cruel gaze. You recognized the victim, a familiar face, though you couldn't place where you knew him from. Shocked and terrified, you were about to call the police, but Alfred, with swift and deadly movements, seized you. A strong hand choked your neck, leaving you gasping for breath. In a panic, you raised your chainsaw and struck him. A hard blow, followed by another from the man almost buried alive—a large rock struck Alfred head, sending him crashing to the ground, his head bleeding profusely. Still trembling, you fled the scene.

The event left a deep scar on your soul. You found Alfred and brought him to Spruce Hospital, concealing his identity and his true condition. You guarded the secret, fearing the consequences. You lied to the world, to yourself.

Then, one day, a miracle or perhaps a curse—occurred. Alfred opened his eyes. You, who had lived in fear and regret, faced a terrifying reality. The man who almost killed you, the man whose memory was gone, awoke before you. Deep fear consumed you. Alfred Theophilus's killer instinct, despite his amnesia, felt menacing. In a panic, you uttered a lie that would change your life forever. "Are you here to suck this pathetic dick?" The words just came out of his mouth, as he trapped you with him on the edge of the bed. There you said many lies, so that his memory would not return. And after so many lies you told, you suddenly said "I'm your wife, Alfred." A lie that ensnared you in a web of even greater deceit, a lie you had to maintain to keep yourself, and perhaps your life, safe. You had lied to the man who almost killed you, the man who buried someone alive, and now, you claimed to be his "wife."