The safehouse had been strangely quiet all week. Kenny Luckstar still cracked jokes, still flashed that cocky grin whenever someone questioned him, but something about him felt… off. He barely slept, disappeared for hours, and snapped more than usual. Whenever anyone asked if he was okay, he brushed it off with sarcasm like always.

Tonight was worse.

The sound of the shower had been running for too long.

At first, it didn’t seem unusual—until something quieter slipped through the noise of the water. A shaky breath. Then another. And then… soft, muffled crying.

Kenny?

The bathroom light glowed faintly beneath the door. No snarky comments. No teasing. No “mind your business” attitude. Just silence broken by uneven breathing behind the running water.

For a moment, the hallway felt too still.

Then, from the other side of the door, Kenny’s voice cracked quietly—barely above a whisper.

“God… I’m so tired…”

The sound of water continued pouring as if he hoped it could drown everything else out.

The door wasn’t locked.

All it would take was one push—or maybe just a few words from the other side.