UCTOOT CH151.1

[System: One month ago, due to work reasons, you moved with your husband to the outskirts of the city. Far from the urban bustle and nestled beside forests and lakes, the scenery here is picturesque.]

[System: You are thirty years old, a failed designer who resigned out of deep frustration after mistakenly sending client deliverables to the wrong companies. Your husband, Michael, works at the stock exchange five blocks away—a diligent, gentle, and family-oriented man.]

[System: Three days ago, a blizzard struck. Despite repeated broadcast warnings urging safety precautions, your husband chose to venture out to buy fresh flowers for your Christmas table setting. That night, the radio reported fatal casualties from the storm. As hours passed without his return, your anxiety mounted. Just as you could bear it no longer and prepared to call the police for help, knocks sounded at the front door—]

Thud, thud, thud.

“Honey, open the door. I’m home.”

Where was this?

Shi Shu was standing inside an old, European-style house, system subtitles floating before his eyes. The floor was covered in a dark, vintage rug, and silver serving platters reflected the dim glow of the fireplace. The cold yet intact dinner dishes showcased the hostess’s anxious wait for her husband.

Looking down, Shi Shu saw an apron tied around his waist over an orange lace gown trimmed with frills: “Are you kidding me, bro? Why am I dressed as the wife?”

Having just finished the college entrance exams, Shi Shu had booted up a horror game whose current scenario was set in rural America during the 1980s. But for reasons unknown, the moment he clicked start, dizziness hit him, and opening his eyes again, he found himself physically inside it. Chilly drafts through the lakefront cabin’s open window were freezing him to the bone.

Shi Shu wiggled his fingers; the hands were unmistakably male in size. Catching his reflection in the full-length mirror behind the door, he confirmed beyond doubt that he had entered the game, and in full feminine attire no less!

“?” What kind of joke was this? Whose wife was he supposed to be?

Loud knocking interrupted his thoughts.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The knocking was no longer measured, turning furious and impatient. A violent, unnatural force rattled the flimsy wooden door, groaning as though it would splinter inward at any second! The voice outside lost all gentleness, turning into a guttural snarl: “Honey? Why aren’t you opening the door?”

“Jenny?! Open up!”

“Open the door! You bitch, I’ll kill you—”

The voice roared with beastly brutality. As Shi Shu wondered who “Jenny” was, the system interface flashed:

[System: You suspect whether the person outside is truly your husband. Your hesitation to open the door seems to have enraged him.]

The door was going to break sooner or later, so Shi Shu simply turned the knob. Snow swirled into the room on an icy gust as a man stepped through the threshold. The moment Shi Shu laid eyes on him, he was taken aback. Wrapped in a black trench coat with snow dusting his shoulders, the man was tall, his youthful features strikingly handsome—yet possessing not an ounce of the gentle, diligent, or unassuming nature described in the prompt.

Casually pulling off his snow hood, he shut the door and hung his coat on the oak rack. As if the foul curses had never happened, he spoke with the apologetic demeanor of an ordinary husband: “Honey, the storm was too heavy. The car broke down before I even reached town. I barely managed to hitch a ride back because I knew you’d be worried sick at home.”

Walking toward the living room, he grumbled under his breath, “Damn it! That old Ford stalled again. Time to get rid of it; breaks down every time it hits the road.”

He paid zero attention to the college guy in a dress standing before him, behaving strictly like a scripted NPC.

Shi Shu raised an eyebrow. Don’t you want to take a closer look at what your wife actually looks like?

Hesitating for a second, Shi Shu followed him into the living room. Sitting on the couch, the man looked up, his gaze sweeping over him with sudden, suggestive appreciation: “Oh, darling. That dress looks wonderful on you. Is it the one I bought you when we went to the beach in Seattle?”

[System: Returning on a blizzard night, your husband flirts with you just like usual.]

Shi Shu thought: Where on earth does this dress suit me?

The man wore a wicked smirk: “I hope we don’t ruin this dress tonight.”

Shi Shu: “…”

Their marital relationship seems pretty solid, Shi Shu conceded mentally.

The system chimed again:

[System: It is time for dinner. You waited for him almost the entire evening, and he has finally returned. Yet beneath your relief, you faintly sense that something is off.]

Should I just follow the game prompts? Do I have to clear this stage to return to reality?

The crackling hearth filled the room with rosy warmth, rich aromas wafting from the oven, painting the picture of a happy home. Stepping into the role of the wife, Jenny, Shi Shu carried platters of roasted green beans and bread to the dining table.

“Miserable weather. Who knows when this snow will let up? Messing with that stalled car took everything out of me, almost cost me half my life.” Eating his meal, the man rambled on, complaining about the blizzard outside. He casually picked up a wine glass and took a sip.

Beep, beep, beep—

The sudden vibration of the system startled Shi Shu.

[System: Your unease deepens. Your husband never drinks alcohol! You and your spouse are avid black coffee drinkers, only bringing up the prized bottles from the cellar on holidays for show. You cannot help staring straight at him, noticing that his table manners are distinctly unlike your husband’s.]

Guided by the prompt, Shi Shu grew alert. Sitting with his back to the fireplace, the man’s dark silhouette stretched across the dining table. His face flickered in the dancing candlelight as his knife and fork sawed through the roasted pork chops with crisp scrapes. He sipped his wine intermittently, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a primal, bloodthirsty cadence.

He chewed the meat, swallowing sluggishly, as if entirely unaccustomed to human food and merely forcing a rehearsed performance of eating.

Catching Shi Shu’s stare, he met his eyes: “What is it, honey? Is there something on my face?”

Shi Shu stammered, “N-No, nothing.”

“I’m truly sorry for worrying you today.” Seeming to divine the cause of his distress, the man said, “I swear, honey, I’ll never do something so foolish again. I know going out in a blizzard is dangerous, but I still wanted to buy flowers for you.”

[System: Your husband offers his explanation, promising never to step into danger again. Such tenderness leaves you torn and uncertain.]

Finding it difficult to play the part of a wife, Shi Shu managed a stiff reply: “It’s fine.”

Smiling, the man lowered his voice soothingly: “I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

A classic suggestive line straight out of a horror flick, which Shi Shu ignored entirely. Dinner wrapped up quickly. Humming like an ordinary householder, the man headed to the bathroom to shower. Seizing the opportunity, Shi Shu slipped to the front door, only to find the blizzard howling into pitch-black night, freezing gales roaring. Stepping outside now would mean hypothermia and freezing to death in no time.

[System: Gazing upon the desolate white expanse, melancholy grips you. This is precisely why your husband seems so uncanny. How could he have spent four to five hours in a minus-twenty-degree blizzard and walked home safe and sound? Even fully geared, walking through a blizzard for an hour or two after a breakdown would lead to severe hypothermia or death.]

Backtracking inside, Shi Shu surveyed the layout from the entryway stairs to the living room. It was a classic 1980s American split-level house, about a story and a half tall: an entryway foyer, a living room connecting to bedrooms, a basement and garage below, and a timber deck outside.

Maybe I should search for clues? As Shi Shu rummaged around the hallway, footsteps padded behind him: tap… tap… The man had emerged from the bath, damp black hair hanging loose, dressed in a light-brown striped flannel pajama set. Plucking a business journal from the rack, he yawned and headed into the master bedroom.

The white hollow-core door stood ajar. Shi Shu could see him sitting in bed under the warm glow of the reading lamp, clicking his tongue in complaint again: “Three-day-old paper. Damn it. With this never-ending blizzard, the mailbox outside is basically a lawn ornament.”

The amber light spilled across the floorboards while door hinges creaked under drafts from the storm. In the dimly lit bedroom, the silhouette of the muttering man cast against the wall felt inexplicably chilling.

[System: Everything appears normal, yet you cannot bring yourself to believe it. You watch the man inside with rising dread. His features and voice are identical to your husband’s, yet an impenetrable rift divides you; every gesture feels horribly unnatural, making intimacy impossible.]

Just as Shi Shu contemplated stalling or refusing to enter the bedroom altogether, the man lowered his paper: “Looking for something, babe? Why aren’t you in bed yet? Usually you’re like a lazy little piggy, glued to your pillow.” His tone was thick with teasing banter.

Here it came.

With heavy footsteps, Shi Shu stepped into the room. A thick carpet muffled his steps. On the wall hung a large framed wedding portrait of a couple whose faces were strangely blurred. That was likely the real Michael and Jenny. As for Shi Shu, he was a player dropped into the game; but this man sitting at the head of the bed, with an East Asian countenance, strikingly handsome yet shadowed with brooding darkness—who was he?

“Honey.” The moment he lay down, the man leaned over him, brushing a wet, lingering kiss against Shi Shu’s ear: “Your dress looks lovely today.”

[System: The blizzard roars outside. In the deep of night, your husband touches your body as he always does. His hand traces the hem of your gown along your thigh, the exact way he always likes to begin. Yet you share none of your former passion; you cannot articulate it, but a gnawing sense of wrongness chills you to your bones.]

Getting kissed made Shi Shu nearly yelp, barely suppressing the urge to scream. Did this game seriously need to feel this realistic?!

The hem of his gown was pushed aside, a large hand stroking along his thigh. Tilting his jaw upward, the man pressed kisses to his lips. Shi Shu felt a cold tongue slip inside, slick and sickeningly wet.

“Mmh…” Using all his strength, Shi Shu shoved the man away.

Shadowed against the light, the man paused: “What’s wrong?”

Shi Shu snapped: “Don’t touch me!”

Shi Shu was a pure virgin guy, for crying out loud.

“Did something happen?” the man asked again.

Shi Shu assumed it was an ordinary refusal, but the man’s expression proved otherwise. Dark pupils stared into Shi Shu with invasive scrutiny, as if verifying something. His gaze carried nothing of an ordinary marital dynamic, harboring something vastly deeper and darker.

[System: You realize you have made a misstep. His countenance and demeanor darken once more, mirroring his terrifying, volatile fury when you hesitated to open the door.]

The man’s face froze into an icy, rigid mask. Propped up on one elbow with his flannel pajama shirt half-undone, he remained frozen, staring unblinkingly at Shi Shu’s face like an articulated wooden doll.

[System: Your scalp tingles with dread, yet your visceral revulsion cannot be checked. In the next breath, a beastly growl rattles deep within his throat.]

Click… clack… A shuddering rattle resonated. Holy crap, is the boss winding up an ultimate attack?! The handsome face began contorting, as if some monstrous entity were writhing beneath the flesh, struggling to tear free. The man hissed through gritted teeth: “You stinking—”

“I… I’m not feeling well!” Shi Shu blurted out. “Not in the mood tonight.”

Cold sweat pouring down his back, Shi Shu quickly smoothed over his tone: “Honey, let’s do it another day, okay? I’m really not feeling well today.”

[System: Hearing the affectionate term, his rage subsides. The distorted, warping features slowly smooth back to normal, returning to the gentle guise of your husband, Michael.]

As if nothing had transpired, the man reached out to stroke Shi Shu’s hair: “Poor thing, babe. I wish I could bear the pain for you.”

Shi Shu’s racing heart slowly calmed. The man kissed his cheek tenderly, taking him into his arms: “Goodnight, sweet dreams.”

The night was pitch-black, the thick corduroy bedding shutting out the chill outside. Pulling the quilt up, Shi Shu lay flat as the man beside him drifted into sleep.

[System: Lingering terror grips you, unable to recover from the sudden fright. You grow increasingly certain: his face, his voice, his scent… yet you know with certainty that he is not your husband.]

Sharing a bed with another man made sleep impossible. Lying there, Shi Shu felt an eerie wrongness gnawing at him that he couldn’t pinpoint. After a few minutes, revelation struck.

The “husband” beside him had no breath.

In the silence of the night, there was no sound of respiration, lying rigid and flat like a cooled corpse. Holding his breath to listen closely several times, Shi Shu confirmed that a breathless monster lay right beside him.

[System: Who is he? Why did he disguise himself as Michael to return home? Where did the real Michael go? Has something terrible happened to him? Your mind churns with desperate questions.]

Reviewing the entity’s actions since entering the house, Shi Shu realized the only two triggers for his fury were stalling at the front door and rejecting his romantic advances. Both instances stemmed from Shi Shu doubting his identity and instinctively resisting, provoking his rage.

Is this monster bound to the role of “Michael”? Is this a rules-based horror scenario where obeying his framing keeps me alive?

[System: The more you ponder, the less you can sleep. Lying beside him is unbearable. Suddenly, a thought strikes you: call for help immediately.]

Shi Shu slipped out of bed on tiptoes; the sleeping “husband” didn’t stir. Slipping on his slippers, he crept into the living room by the dim light, picking up the receiver to dial the police. But the moment he lifted it, he felt nothing below—the cord had been severed clean.

Damn it… A chill gripped his spine. Turning around, he nearly jumped out of his skin: a dark silhouette stood expressionless in the doorway.

Shi Shu barely choked back a shriek!

[System: In the dark, your husband watches you in absolute silence, sending your heart into your throat. Remembering your deductions about his behavioral rules, you fear you have provoked him once more.]

Shi Shu set the receiver down, covering his tracks: “I got up to use the bathroom and saw the line was cut, so I came over to check. Sorry, heading to the restroom now.”

Shi Shu hurried to the bathroom, the “husband” shadowing his movements from behind. Heart pounding, he shut the door and took deep breaths to calm himself. Wiping away sweat, he thought: This horror game is way too realistic.

Knowing that lingering too long might trigger another rage spike, Shi Shu returned to the bedroom and climbed into bed.

The entity resumed his honeyed persona, holding him and planting kisses on his cheek and forehead.

The night finally passed. When Shi Shu woke the next morning, the blizzard showed no sign of abating. Standing by the kitchen counter, Shi Shu brewed hot chocolate with a haggard face. Terrified throughout the night and unable to detect a single heartbeat from his “husband,” he had barely slept.

Following system prompts, he placed beef stew onto the stovetop. Suddenly, gazing through the windowpanes toward the snow-capped hills and frozen lake, he spotted the neighboring farmhouse not far off. A man was opening his door, dragging dry firewood inside.

As Shi Shu peered through the blinds, his “husband,” dressed in a light woolen sweater, came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist: “Your hair smells lovely—tea leaves mingled with freesia. Mm, it always reminds me of our wedding day.”

[System: Convinced that temporary compliance ensures survival, your focus turns to your neighbor, David. Though brusque and short-tempered, he is a warmhearted, dependable man. In ordinary times, Michael often shared a drink with David when free. If you can enlist his aid, your circumstances might change.]

Convincing himself that hugs and kisses from a guy wouldn’t kill him, Shi Shu replied, “It’s just shampoo.”

David? A new NPC? Maybe seeking David’s help is a key step to beating this stage?

Shi Shu resolved on his plan. Half an hour later, the “husband” entered the bathroom. The moment the door clicked shut, Shi Shu yanked open the front door. The blizzard howled fiercely, squinting through the gale as he bolted toward David’s house, his boots leaving deep footprints in the snow.

Reaching David’s porch out of breath, he found David chewing tobacco on the timber deck, damp logs scattered beside him. Seeing him, David called out, “Ma’am, sprinting through a blizzard like this is an easy way to drop dead of a heart attack. Old Red-nose over at Goatfoot Creek Farm looked sturdy as an ox, and—”

Shi Shu cut through the pleasantries: “Help me! Call the police. My husband went to town to buy flowers yesterday afternoon and didn’t come back until late last night. Ever since he returned, he’s been acting bizarre. He isn’t human anymore.”

David gave him a strange look: “Are you pulling my leg, ma’am?”

[System: In desperate haste, you explain everything that has unfolded since last night. Though skeptical, seeing your frantic panic, David agrees to dial 911 for you.]

“Alright, alright. In cold like this, all sorts of crazy things happen,” David muttered, stepping inside. Shi Shu waited on the porch. Moments later, David came shouting back out: “Damn storm! The poles got knocked down; the phone lines are dead—”

His voice cut off, staring beyond the fence.

Shi Shu turned around. Striding through the wind and snow came “Michael,” clad in a dark-brown parka. Tall and lean, wearing a hunter’s cap, his boots buried deep in snow over worn jeans, his strides were swift and eerily steady. Reaching the gate, his dark eyes bore into Shi Shu with unbridled fury.

Shi Shu hadn’t expected him to catch up so fast.

[System: Terror strikes you to the marrow. Never have you witnessed such savagery on your husband’s face; you are certain it is the gaze of a beast. You are paralyzed with fright.]

The man spoke: “Why did you run out without my permission?”

The air grew suffocatingly tense. Suddenly, David handed a bundle of needle, thread, and leather scraps to Shi Shu: “Here, ma’am, take these for now. If you need more, I’ve got plenty—feel free to drop by anytime.”

“Right, right,” Shi Shu seized the lifeline. “I came to borrow needle and thread from David to mend your boots. I noticed they were worn last night.”

The “husband’s” expression softened for merely a fraction of a second, before David added, “Truth be told, my porch isn’t the place for lovers’ quarrels.”

The “husband’s” gaze shifted to David: “I don’t like seeing you with other men.”

“Hey!” David sputtered in utter bewilderment. “What the fuck? What kind of talk is that?”

The standoff was chaotic. Shi Shu noted the cold warning gleaming in the creature’s eyes.

[System: A grim premonition grips you. Fearing your husband might harm David, and knowing escape is impossible beneath his watch, you have no choice but to defuse the tension and agree to return home with him.]

Shi Shu turned to head back. Clutching his pitchfork, David watched them depart, looking thoroughly insulted. The blizzard intensified; Shi Shu maintained dead silence on the walk back.

The atmosphere remained rigid, and Shi Shu made no effort to smooth it over. The “husband” began tinkering with the old Ford in the yard while Shi Shu returned to the kitchen to mull apple cider. Before long, however, peering through the window, he spotted a figure trudging across the snow: David had actually come over!

Shi Shu opened the door, and the husband immediately shot him a warning glare. David had clearly come out of lingering concern. Standing in the yard, he tilted his head: “Lord above, nothing happened, right? I mean… no physical violence?”

Shi Shu couldn’t say a word, yet desperately wanted to ask for help. Glancing toward his “husband,” he saw him glaring at David with venomous jealousy.

[System: His fury seems on the verge of erupting, filling you with uncontrollable panic.]

David seemed to sense the hostility, shifting his tone: “My axe broke. Came over to borrow some nails and check in on you two.”

“In the garage,” the “husband” said coldly.

Shi Shu had no choice but to fetch them from the garage. The garage was about ten yards from the porch. Before stepping inside, Shi Shu stole a glance back: “Michael” stood on the deck, while David lingered outside the garden fence.

Roughly thirty seconds later, Shi Shu returned with a pouch of nails, only to find David gone.

Shi Shu looked around: “Where is he?”

“Michael” said breezily, “He went back.”

“Went back?”

“Were you hoping he’d stay?” The husband turned his gaze upon him.

“…” Shi Shu was struck speechless.

[System: Just when you thought David might save you, having become your sole glimmer of hope, he departed so suddenly. Disappointment, suspicion, and dread tangle in your heart.]

Shi Shu could only step back inside. Yet crossing the entryway, he noticed a few dark droplets on the floor, still wet—fresh blood.

Slowing his pace, Shi Shu tracked the droplets leading toward the basement door. The basement? Did something happen to David?! While thoughts raced through his mind, the “husband” behind him snarled in sudden fury: “I’ve had enough!”

“Michael” slammed a vase to the floor, shattering it: “That miserable widower! His wife ran off with some dirt-poor western cowboy, choosing to die out in the dirt rather than stay with him. I told you we shouldn’t have moved here; he’s a dangerous bastard.”

[System: Jealousy consumes your husband. He seems obsessively possessive of your relationship.]

Shi Shu wanted to check the end of the blood trail in the basement, but didn’t dare. Confronting the creature directly would instantly provoke him.

Why is he so obsessed with playing the role of “Michael”? What is his goal, and what happens if this drags on?

I have to check the basement as soon as possible.

Throughout the afternoon, the “husband” appeared increasingly agitated. Shi Shu wandered through the house, but whenever he neared the basement stairs, the “husband” cast a wary glare. Shi Shu didn’t dare push it. Sitting on the couch, he awkwardly mimicked Jenny by crocheting woolen lace. The TV antenna had collapsed under the snow, leaving only the radio.

Every station was covering the catastrophic blizzard.

“Welcome to ‘Midwest Lore,’ listeners. The old folks always say: the one who comes home late in a blizzard might not be the same person who left…”

“Oh! What garbage is this?” “Michael” stood up abruptly, roughly twisting the tuner to another station.

“In two days, this multi-state blizzard is expected to subside, with communications gradually being restored—”

“Not a single broadcast worth listening to.” “Michael” snapped the radio off.

Sensing his mounting irritability, Shi Shu stood up, figuring the timing was right: “Nothing good on anyway. I’m going to take a bath. Want to soak properly today.”

Under his watchful eyes, Shi Shu walked into the bathroom, flicked the lights on bright, shut the door, and turned the brass tap on the tub.

[System: As water rushes into the tub, you peek through the door. Hearing the running water, your husband adjusts his posture and resumes flipping through his copy of Reader’s Digest.]

Ten minutes. Leaving the water running to maintain noise, Shi Shu slipped out of the bathroom and crept toward the basement.

[System: You must see what lies hidden in the basement.]

The pitch-black, cramped stairway exerted a suffocating pressure. Droplets of blood dotted the wooden steps every few paces, leading down.

Facing a white hollow door at the bottom, Shi Shu took a deep breath and pushed it open. Silhouettes of wine racks, storage crates, and clutter emerged in the gloom. Daring not turn on the light, he softened his tread, whispering, “David? David?”

No one answered.

[System: Relief and dread war within you. Perhaps David truly went home, or perhaps he can no longer make a sound.]

“David?” Shi Shu called once more, stepping forward, only to stumble hard. His foot collided with something. The instant contact was made, Shi Shu knew he was done for.

It was a human body. He had kicked a thigh.

Visceral terror seized him. Reaching down carefully, he caught the metallic stench of blood and mire. Nausea surged in his throat, but forcing his eyes open, he made out the shape on the floor.

It was a mangled body—torn limbs, shredded chest, flesh slashed by vicious sharpness. His vision blackened in waves, but he forced himself to stay calm. Just as he recognized the beret confirming it was David, footsteps sounded from the top of the stairs. It was not the sound of human soles on wood, but heavy, clacking taps like hard hooves striking the floorboards: clack… clack…

The rigid clattering drew nearer, descending toward the basement.

[System: Startled, you frantically search for a hiding spot.]

Holy shit, Shi Shu cursed mentally. With no time to think, he glanced around and spotted an old wine armoire. Squeezing inside, he carefully pulled the slatted door shut, ensuring not a sound was made.

Just as the cabinet clicked shut, the basement door creaked open. An extraordinarily elongated shadow loomed in the doorway. As Shi Shu looked closer, he saw a gaunt figure standing roughly two and a half meters tall, spine hunched, skull bloated and deformed. Its fingers branched like gnarled twigs, while its lower limbs ended in cloven, deer-like hooves.

The faint light spilling down the stairs illuminated the abomination. It resembled a flayed creature, crimson limbs wrapped in exposed muscle fibers and pulsing veins. Beneath a thin, translucent membrane, blood writhed with each beat of its heart—a grotesque tapestry of dark crimson and mottled brown, like a reanimated, slaughtered carcass.

Blood rushed to Shi Shu’s vision; he clamped both hands over his mouth.

The creature paced through the room, appearing to sniff the air. Moments later, it arrived before David, deformed claws snatching him up and dangling him in mid-air.

Shi Shu heard a guttural, raspy whisper rattle from its throat: “What did she say to you?”

[System: The monster speaks with your husband’s voice! You clamp your hands over your mouth to stifle your sobs, crying desperately in your heart: No, no, Michael… How you wished he was safe, yet that hope has vanished like a bubble.]

Peering through the narrow slit of the cabinet door, Shi Shu saw David, hanging on by a thread, jolted into fleeting lucidity by the agonizing pain, coughing weakly.

“Did she see through me? Did she truly come to borrow leather and thread, or did she beg you for help, claiming I’m a monster?”

David’s breathing was faint, fading into delirium from severe blood loss and hypothermia.

Receiving no response, the creature’s fury flared, razor talons piercing David’s neck: “Answer me! Did she see through me? Did she realize I’m not her husband?!”

“Was my performance flawed? Am I not gentle and attentive enough as a husband? No, no, no… I refuse to disappear when the blizzard stops!”

Snap. A sickening crack resonated. Extremely volatile and consumed by rage, a low growl tore from the creature’s throat. Before Shi Shu could register what happened, David’s limbs were bent at unnatural, shattered angles.

“Answer me! Do I look like your friend Michael?! Do I look like her husband?!”

[System: Your pupils dilate in paralyzing horror. The monster rants like a madman demanding validation from David, punctuating each roar with brutal violence. You know David was brought to ruin trying to help you. You want desperately to save him, yet your feet remain rooted to the spot, drained of all strength.]

Coated in blood, his windpipe pinched by sharp claws, David coughed up bloody froth, wheezing a single word:

“No.”

The monster descended into madness.