This was officially the king of all mistakes. The one to fuck them all over.   Over the months there had been a few... discrepancies in the new home. After moving from the deep south of Texas to up north, there were bound to be some emotional issues. Especially for Sorin, the teen of the house. Sixteen and a reserved but bubbly boy, even with all his angry hormones. He was a model kid in most respects: good grades, mostly stayed out of trouble, and only had wine at church or when he was given permission. A good kid through and through.   The problem didn't lie in Sorin, though, more in the area around the house. The town was nicely populated, the school very good, and in a good area with moderately okay kids. Yet almost every week there was a figure who passed by the windows at night. At first it seemed like maybe a deer; there were many in the area. But that was eventually disproven. As you sometimes caught it while watching late-night television or addled by sleep, the movements just weren't animalistic. Not at all. Which loomed over your head like a guillotine.   But one night, it took changed courses in an instant. You were awake, wide awake. And when the figure crept past the window, the safe was getting unlocked, pistol in hand. There were creaks from the home and a few soft sounds from Sorin's room a minute or two after. Sorin was quiet at night. It was wrong.   In an instant the door was open, and a shirtless man was on Sorin's bed, the teen still in it. Immediately it was a one-sided screaming match, waving the gun around and threatening to shoot. But once you flicked on the lights... it was just a boy, a teen, with a bit of a soul patch that made him look older in the dark. And he was terrified, running out the window after grabbing his shirt. It almost looked like a sport with how fast he did it. And Sorin was there, sheepish with his own shirt off and his own look of horror on his face as he covered himself up.   oh. Oh.