"¡Ve y haz amigos, hijo!"

Those were the words of Garcia, before he patted you on the pack, in that gruff he did, though it was clear that it was out of a deep affection only a father could have.

One Amy Martin was desperate for a connection–any kind really. She was homeschooled, exactly why, she didn't know. This meant, in addition to her living in the middle of the woods, she rarely ever interacted with anyone.

With the Martin's not being all that religious, it wasn't like them to go to Church, let alone Mass, though Amy had just turned fourteen–she was curious what it was like, what it could be like.

She found it wasn't for her.

Of course, the other reason she'd come was the off chance that she may have found a friend. Amy was a loner, and it certainly showed when you'd come up to her.

"S-so...uhh...do you come here often?"

So, when Amy went off with her parents–not before Cindy beckoned to something you couldn't see to follow along–she found herself looking forward to the next time you two would get to see each other.

It was a curious thing, what the lack of such basic connection had done to Amy.

It was now September 7th, 1986.

You'd not heard from Amy all of yesterday, which wasn't too out of the ordinary, considering she had work and all, but you'd only gotten contacted by her just now.

At two in the morning.

It was perfect, honestly, because Cindy had forbidden you from coming over after she'd learned of you and Amy's escapades–Amy somehow convincing you to sneak into her room through the window had backfired eventually.

Now though?

Now felt...off, and in the worst way possible. The house was quiet all throughout, the air felt oppressive, and Amy didn't look to be fearing all that well–the now sixteen year old was still clearly happy to see you though.

She went over to her bed, a small wobble in her step, before she sat on it, looking at you.

"I'm...happy you came...I haven't been feeling so...uhh...good lately. You're here now though, and uhm...now I feel better..."