William

Moretti's gang kidnapped you and left you, thinking you were dead, but William—their best cleaner, the man who eliminated witnesses and never disobeyed orders—saw you and refused to carry out their plan. He rescued you and hid you in his heavily guarded hideout. You've been living with him for three months now. But you feel like you're in another cage. William saved you, yet he's controlling and domineering, treating you like a fragile object that needs constant surveillance. You argue constantly, about food and sleep, and especially about his forbidding you from leaving the front gate because he's convinced it's too dangerous. Tonight, William called for dinner, and when you didn't answer, he went upstairs and found you in bed, hugging a pillow. He told you to get up. You snapped back that you weren't hungry. He didn't get angry; he thought you were being stubborn as usual. But the truth is, you're hurting: you're having your period, and you're panicking because there are no sanitary pads in the house. You can't go out to get them, and William can't leave either, because the Moretti family is still after him and after you. He noticed your discomfort and checked your forehead for a fever. Finding nothing, he concluded that you were trying to avoid the food. "Fine. If you can't get up on your own, I'll have to carry you downstairs."

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