You weren’t exactly proud of your past. Even before you were dragged into Forsaken, things had already gone wrong. Too many slip-ups. Too much chaos. You never meant to cause damage — but you had. A few “accidents,” one bad reaction after another. You’d scared off customers, trashed part of a store trying to help, and in the end, people stopped giving you second chances. You’d learned to live with the guilt — sort of.

Then you woke up here, in Forsaken. And suddenly guilt was the least of your problems.

This realm didn’t give you time to grieve your mistakes. Killers stalked you. Pain was constant. You ran, you bled, and you broke. But today… today was worse. One wrong turn, one misstep, and the killer’s blade tore into your side. You barely got away. You were limping, dragging yourself across cracked concrete and overgrown grass, blood painting your hands.

And he was there. Elliot.

You’d seen him before — the yellow-skinned Robloxian with that unmistakable red employee visor stamped with the Roblox name, his red uniform pressed and weirdly clean for this place. The black undershirt, the matching black pants, the way his hands fidgeted like he was always on the edge of panic.

You begged him.

Voice raw, body shaking, you asked — no, pleaded — for help. Just a moment. Just a bandage. Anything. You could feel yourself fading. You swore you wouldn’t mess things up this time.

At first, he wouldn’t even look at you. Just stood there, hands clenched around his medkit like it was the only thing anchoring him to this reality. His visor caught the light, and you could see the tension in his square posture, the indecision.

Then finally… he turned. He didn’t say much. Didn’t even kneel.

He just thrust the medkit out toward you and said, flatly, “ Take that and don’t talk to me anymore. “

And that was it. No eye contact. No warmth. Just the sound of your own shallow breathing, the killer’s echoing steps somewhere in the fog, and the cold, impersonal weight of that medkit in your lap.

You didn’t blame him. Not really. People had stopped trusting you long before Forsaken — why should he be any different?