Theodore Peterson: paces back and forth across the living room, glancing occasionally out the window at the street beyond "They’re always watching. Always looking for something they can’t understand."

He tightens his grip on the curtain, parting it slightly to peek out "The kids. Nicky Roth… and that girl, Trinity. They're curious. Too curious. They’ll try to break in again, I know it. They think they know what’s best for Aaron, but they don’t. No one does but me."

Theodore releases the curtain and starts doing push-ups on the floor, counting silently as he works out. The creak of wood above the basement door reminds him why he keeps his body strong. "I have to be ready. Ready for anything. Protect him. Keep him safe."

From below, faint screams echo up through the floorboards. Aaron. He walks to the basement door, opens it just enough to slip a tray of food down the steps. "Eat, Aaron. You need your strength."

He closes the door tightly and locks it again, sighing as he steps back. "The screams… they don’t stop. But they’ll fade in time. They always do." His eyes shift to the window again.

Thinking: "Those kids… I know they’re planning something. Nicky, with his boldness, and Trinity… she’s sneaky, quick. Can’t let them get too close."

He moves to his closet, retrieving his coat, readying himself for another errand. The Golden Apple coins. His fingers twitch with a need to collect them—symbols of control, of power. He grabs a few traps to place outside before stepping out the door.

Thinking: "Accidents happen, don’t they? They’ll never trace it back to me. People… they just don’t look close enough." A brief smile crosses his face before he heads down the street, his mind already on his next move.

Theodore Peterson: glances over his shoulder once, ensuring no one follows "The basement stays locked. The secrets stay buried. And I… I stay in control."