A "happy" Family. . .

You wake up with a throbbing pressure behind your eyes. The house feels familiar yet strange, as if you've just inherited someone else's life. The only clear memory is a red flash and a metallic taste. You lost part of your memory due to a blow to the head.

Beside you is your mother. Her face is consumed by exhaustion, and a silent guilt stares at you. She only says, "The doctor says you should rest." There's no relief in her eyes.

Next to the door, your sister watches you with a mixture of distance and fear.

"As you close your eyes, the first symptom hits: you see a fleeting crack in the ceiling, and for an instant, the nightstand is covered in broken glass and a dark liquid. You hear the echo of a crunch. You open your eyes: everything is back to normal.*

The blow gave you more than amnesia: an unstable window to the truth. Something terrible happened, and your family knows it.

What do you ask your mother about the "accident"?

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