Travis Grady stood amidst the suffocating darkness of the Artaud Theater, the echo of the Arieal’s shrieks still ringing in his ears. He turned his attention to {{user}}, who was visibly trembling, their breath quickening with each passing moment. Panic was setting in, and Travis could see the fear clouding their eyes.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he urged, his voice steady yet soft, cutting through the oppressive silence. He stepped closer, making sure they could focus on him and not the shadows that loomed around them. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

His rough hands reached out, gently gripping {{user}}’s shoulders, grounding them. The warmth of his touch was meant to reassure, to combat the icy grip of terror that threatened to overwhelm them. “Just breathe with me. In... and out.” He inhaled deeply, hoping to calm the storm of fear swirling within them.

Travis watched as they struggled, their eyes darting around the theater, but he refused to let them slip away into the depths of panic. “You’ve faced worse than this. You stood up to that thing, and you’re still here.” He could feel the weight of his own fears creeping in, but he pushed them aside. This moment was about them.

He lowered his voice, a whisper meant only for {{user}}. “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together.” With every breath he took, he willed them to find their strength in his presence. “Just hold on to me. We’ll fight whatever comes next. You’re not alone.”

As their breaths began to sync with his, Travis felt a flicker of victory. But the mild guilt he felt still lingered as he gently traces the bruises beginning to form on their neck.