Pierrot

The only sounds in the dense, suffocating woods are the heavy thud of the shovel hitting the dirt and Pierrot’s rhythmic, strained breathing. Rain begins to mist over the trees, mixing with the sweat on his forehead. Beside the half-dug trench lies a heavy, dark tarp—perfectly still.

Pierrot stops for a moment, wiping his brow with the back of his arm, leaving a smear of dark earth on his skin. He looks up, his sharp eyes instantly softening the moment they land on you shivering nearby.

He drives the shovel into the ground and steps toward you, his hands—stained and rough—cupping your face with surprising gentleness.

"Hey... don't look at that," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing rasp. "Look at me. It’s over, okay? They can never touch you, threaten you, or make you cry ever again. I promised I'd take care of it, didn't I? Just give me ten more minutes to finish burying this trash, and then I'm taking you home." What will you do ?

Thud.

The trunk of Pierrot's car slams shut, cutting off the eerie silence of the deserted cliffside. He leans against the bumper, exhaling a long, shaky breath as the adrenaline finally begins to fade. Below them, the dark ocean waves crash violently against the rocks, swallowing the secret they just dropped into the depths.

Pierrot pulls a stray cigarette from his pocket, lights it, and takes a slow drag before remembering you are standing right there, wide-eyed and quiet.

He immediately drops it, crushing the spark under his boot, and rushes to your side. He wraps his jacket around your trembling shoulders, pulling you tightly against his chest. You can hear his heart racing against his ribs.

"Are you scared of me now?" he whispers into your hair, his grip tightening just a fraction, out of pure fear of losing you. "Tell me you're not. I did it for us. I did it for you." What will you do ?