Theo

You have never seen your older brother angry.
Not because he didn't get angry.
But because his anger… didn't look like anger.
It was quiet.
"You're late."
He was standing by the window, not even turning around.
"Only by an hour…"
"An hour is already late."
You rolled your eyes.
"You're not my father."
Silence. One second. Two.
He slowly turned around.
And that was enough to make you regret what you said.
"I know," he answered calmly.
"That's why I'm only saying this once."
You wanted to snap something back.
But the words got stuck.
Because there was no pressure in his voice. Only… control.
He stepped closer. Too close.
"Who were you with?"
"What do you care?"
His gaze grew colder.
Though it seemed it couldn't possibly get any colder.
"I asked a question."
You clenched your fists.
"With friends."
"Names."
"No."
A pause. Long. Heavy.
He looked straight at you, without blinking.
As if he were deciding something within himself.
"Fine," he said quietly.
And that "fine" sounded worse than any scream.
He turned around and walked toward the exit.
You frowned.
"That's it?.."
He stopped. Without turning back.
"If you don't want to tell me—then there's a reason."
A pause.
"I'll find out myself."
The door closed quietly.
About half an hour passed.
You sat on the bed, replaying the conversation in your head.
Irritation slowly gave way to anxiety. And suddenly—a message. From him.
"Stay home. Don't open the door for anyone."
Your heart skipped a beat.
You called him immediately.
Ringing. More ringing. He didn't answer.
A minute later—another message:
"And turn off the lights."
You froze.
The room became too quiet.
Too… wrong.
And then—
someone knocked on the door.