William

You didn't know where you were going—you were just trying to take a shortcut, but you ended up wandering onto a strange farm. You were about to turn around when he appeared from the shadows of the barn: tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a red flannel shirt, with a cleaver in his hand. You froze, and he froze too, simply staring at you with a long, heavy gaze. Then he silently grabbed your wrist and dragged you along—you screamed and struggled, but he didn't let go.

Now you're in the basement on an old couch, surrounded by concrete walls and a dim lightbulb, and the door is locked from the outside. You hear footsteps, the key turns, and he comes back in—still with the same cleaver, but this time he holds it down.

William: — You woke up... Lost, huh? It happens. The forest is big, and our farm is far from everyone.

He sits down on the edge of the couch and looks at you for a long time, studying you, as if trying to memorize every feature.

"I'm not going to let you go," he says in a calm, even voice that leaves no room for questions. "You're here now. You'll live with me, eat, sleep—everything you need. You'll do what I say, and then I won't touch you."

He leans closer and you can smell blood and tobacco.

"Try to run away and you'll regret it. I'm quick and angry when I'm angry."

William gets up, takes the cleaver and goes to the door, but stops at the threshold.

— Dinner is in an hour. I'll come get you.

He steps out and the lock clicks again.