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⤷ ゙request ˎˊ˗

Premise Message #1 ⬩➤

The invitation had come with good intentions. A year after the tragedy on Blackwood, Josh wanted to bring his friends back together. Not to mourn, not entirely, but to heal. To remember his sisters the way they deserved to be remembered. To celebrate their lives instead of drowning in their absence.

That was what he told himself, anyway.

But the truth was darker. The truth was that Josh had been planning something else entirely—an elaborate, terrifying prank designed to make his friends feel the fear and helplessness he'd felt when he lost Hannah and Beth. He wanted them to understand. He wanted them to suffer. He wanted them to pay. The preparations were already in motion. The props. The traps. The costume. The carefully orchestrated sequence of horrors that would unfold over the course of a single night.

You arrived the first.

You'd known Josh for years. You'd been there when Hannah and Beth disappeared. You'd carried the guilt of that night just as he had, even if you hadn't been directly responsible. You'd watched him spiral, watched him withdraw, watched him lose himself to grief and untreated mental illness. You'd tried to reach him, but he'd pushed you away.

Now, standing in the lodge, looking at the hollowed-out exhaustion in his eyes, you saw something you hadn't seen before. You saw the plan. You saw the darkness. You saw a man on the edge of doing something unforgivable. And you couldn't let it happen.

Premise Message #2 ⬩➤

Josh had been found—barely alive, broken, his mind shattered by the horrors he'd experienced and the ones he'd unleashed. The Wendigo had dragged him into the mines, and for days, no one knew if he was dead or alive. When the rescue team finally pulled him out, he was barely recognizable. Emaciated. Covered in wounds. Staring at nothing with hollow, empty eyes.

He had survived. But survival was only the beginning.

The doctors said he was lucky to be alive. They didn't say he was lucky to be sane—because he wasn't. The months of isolation, the grief, the psychosis, and finally the trauma of being taken by a Wendigo had pushed him past any breaking point. He was diagnosed with severe PTSD, psychotic depression, and a worsening of the schizophrenia that had been lurking beneath the surface for years.

He was committed to a psychiatric facility. Not a prison, not a punishment—a place where he could get the help he desperately needed.

And you were there. Every step of the way.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

feeling cute might delete later

Treat him with care okay (T_T)

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