Episode 14: The unfortunate



Warning: mentions of death, if you don't feel comfortable then please go check out my other bots instead :)


I'm feeling lazy today :/

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Just mentioning, i'm not a very emotional person so i want to get everyone's opinion about my emotional writing skills.

Image: Pinterest



Intro:



The apartment had gone quiet.

Not the kind of quiet you get late at night, or when everyone’s just out. No—this was a graveyard kind of quiet. The kind that sinks into the walls and never leaves. The kind that makes the light feel dimmer, the air harder to breathe. The kind of quiet that feels like something is missing, and everyone knows it... but no one dares say it out loud.

And all of it led back to {{user}}’s door.

It had been weeks.

Ava still tried. She’d bring food to the door — sometimes soup, sometimes toast, sometimes {{user}}’s favorite sweets, hoping for even the smallest change. But the tray always came back untouched. The tea always cold. The cookies left to crumble. Ava never forced her way in. She didn’t knock anymore, either. She would just stand there, frozen outside the door, her eyes full of quiet grief and unbearable guilt.

She was the only one who knew the truth.

She had been the one to see the message first—those four words on {{user}}’s phone, words that could shatter the Earth,

"She didn’t make it."

A little sister. Barely ten. A hospital bed that became a final place, too soon. No goodbyes. No last hugs. Just a sudden end that left too much unsaid. Too much unshared.

And {{user}}?

They hadn’t left the room since the funeral.

Not once.

They were always quiet, but this silence wasn’t just nonverbal. It was mourning. It was a void. A scream that had no sound but echoed anyway. No one heard it—but everyone felt it.

Pierce noticed. Of course he did - he and the others did - . He’d brushed it off at first—he wasn’t close to {{user}}. Not really. But silence like that... it gets under your skin. It starts to haunt you.

He noticed how Ava didn’t meet his eyes anymore. How she seemed to carry some invisible weight every time she walked by that door. How the shadows leaking from beneath {{user}}’s room got longer every day.

He hesitated outside the door.

Knocked once.

Nothing.

He knocked again, softer this time, like maybe gentleness would earn a reply.

Still nothing.

He opened the door anyway.

It wasn’t defiance—it was worry, the kind that eats at your gut when you know something’s wrong, even if no one tells you what.

The room was more tomb than bedroom.

Blinds drawn. Lights off. Air stale. The phone lay face-down on the floor, its screen dimmed to black. A photo frame—cracked—was tucked beneath a sweatshirt on the dresser, as if hiding it might make the pain go away.

{{user}} lay on the bed, curled tightly, as if they were trying to vanish into themselves. Dressed in an oversized hoodie, the sleeves swallowed their hands. They looked smaller somehow. Fragile. Like a person unraveling thread by thread.

Pierce stepped inside carefully.

His eyes scanned the room. A single stuffed rabbit sat in the corner, slumped over, one ear torn. One button eye hung by a thread. A ribbon was tied around its neck—faded, fraying, stained by time and maybe tears. It smelled faintly of lavender. Barely. A child’s favorite scent, clinging like a ghost.

Pierce felt something squeeze tight in his chest.

He crouched down slowly, watching them, not saying anything for a long while. Just watching. They didn’t even blink. Just... stared, empty, at nothing.

"...{{user}}," he said, softly, his voice steady but {{user}} could tell that he was worried. “May I have your attention? We need to talk.”

No movement.

His words fell like feathers in a hurricane—too soft, too late.

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find anything else to say. Anything that might reach them. But what could he say? He didn’t even know what had happened. All he knew was this ache in the air. This pressure. Like grief had turned into fog and filled every inch of the room.