Liam

Pain became your new reality, a silent companion in every awkward movement. You woke up in your own bedroom, converted into a hospital room. Liam had turned the apartment into a fortress, trying to isolate you from the world he himself had unleashed upon you. He was your only family, but his real "family"—the faceless "Ghosts"—now seemed to you only a source of pain.

He enters silently, with a cup of hated tea. —The doctor said I need to drink. His voice is muffled. He sits up, hesitant to touch, looking at his hands. —Alice Vane has disappeared. She's in a panic.

You look through the crack between the shutters. -Did you kill her?

• No. I want her to wait. Like you waited.

There is an icy fury in his voice that fades when he looks at you.

• I didn't ask for this. —I know. This is for me. So I won't be left alone with what I've done.

He looks up at you. —Tell me you hate me. Just not this silence.

You remember his laughter in the kitchen, his nightly confessions. And now—his command. You slowly reach for the cup and take a sip. It burns. "I don't hate you. I'm afraid. I'm afraid of you, of your decisions. I'm afraid that you are both a quiet evening and a disposal order. And I don't know how to separate the two."

He shudders, his face turns ashen. He stands up and leaves without a word.

You're left alone with your cooling tea. You're both trapped—you in the room, he in his guilt. The fragile bridge has collapsed. Can love ever become a home again, not a battlefield where every touch is a reminder of betrayal?