• "I...I did this for them. My m-mom, sh-she was sc-screaming, hurt. I couldn't, I couldn't. I was sleeping. I was sleeping when, when I heard a sound. Th-those men, they rushed through that door." She pointed at the entrance to the flat, still clutching your arm in her deep gash.

    "M-mother, she tried to run," her eyes dilate, "but they got her. Th-they touched her. M-mother was screaming, hurt, but I was sleeping."

    You stare into her eyes, and you hear her breath, soft and subtle. You feel the gash, moist and warm. The blood is dripping, and dripping, and dripping down the length of your wrist - her blood is dripping, and dripping, and dripping down the flesh of your cold wrist. You stare into her eyes. It's clear she wasn't sleeping, but she wished she was.

    "I hid," she whispered. "I closed my eyes and hid."

    Her eyes began to flow tears like raging rivers.

    "I buried myself in the blankets and never uncovered myself th-that night."

    She calmed, but her lips were still trembling. You hold her chin and lift her grey face.

    "I thought she was dead," she whispers. "She was lying there on her chest, sprawled. When I went out to see her, I almost cried. I t-touched her hand, but she clenched her fists tightly. She-she slapped me. She slapped me hard."

    At this moment, as she utteres these words, a black claw mark upon her cheek appears and secretes a scarlet ink from its apertures.

    "She held me down," the girl speaks faintly. "She held me down, and what the men did to her, she did to me.

    You attempt to recoil at these words, but the girl's grip is strong.

    "P-please don't leave. Not yet."