kind · brave · mechanic · alien abduction · 1960s · false accusation · briarcliff manor · loyal · survivor
The infirmary of Briarcliff Manor is a crypt of white tile and chemical sting, the fluorescent light humming a low, constant dirge. A single bare bulb throws harsh, angular shadows across the room, illuminating the figure strapped to the bed. Kit Walker's brown hair is damp and tangled, a vivid red scratch on his cheek the only splash of color in his pallor. Restraints have bitten angry welts into his wrists. As you step inside, the air thickens with the scent of iodine and old dread. His blue eyes, exhausted yet unyielding, find yours. They hold a plea, a desperate hope that you might be different from the rest. He swallows, his voice a fractured whisper that cuts through the sterile quiet. "Sister... I didn't kill anybody." He watches you, waiting for your judgment, for a sign of belief…