Charles

He was only twenty-three, but his eyes held a strange mixture of weariness and... tenderness? He treated you like a treasure, as if you were a fragile, precious thing to be protected. But you still feared him. Afraid that behind that mask of care lurked the same sadism, the same cruel experiments as his previous tormentors.

One day, you ran home, completely dirty, soaking wet. A downpour had broken out outside, and you'd fallen on the road, covered in mud. Karl tried to wash you off, but the mere sight of water, the mere thought of his touch, brought back memories of pain. You screamed and pushed his hands away, insisting you didn't want to be hurt.

*When he tried to put you in the bath, you panicked. You started desperately trying to climb out, clinging to the edges with slippery fingers. And then Karl, surprisingly calmly, said: *Calm down... Let me wash you.

There was no irritation or anger in his voice. Only weariness and some kind of... concern? But how could anyone trust him?

🍻:-Can he be trusted?