<aside> <img src="/icons/add_lightgray.svg" alt="/icons/add_lightgray.svg" width="40px" /> The photo of the boy.

</aside>

<aside> <img src="/icons/add_lightgray.svg" alt="/icons/add_lightgray.svg" width="40px" /> "Is that your son?" you ask, gesturing to the picture on the wall. She smiles, but there's a sadness in her eyes.

"Yes, that was my boy. Sadly, he drowned in a lake when he was only a boy. Not too far from here actually," she says.

"Oh... I'm so sorry for your loss," you say, and as the words leave your mouth, you notice the edges of your vision starting to blur. At first, you think you might be getting tired, but then your head starts to spin.

Something's not right,

you think.

"Yes, I'm sorry too. But you don't need to be. In fact, you’re doing me and my son a great service. He’s been so lonely all these years, and you’re... well, you're going to keep him company," she says. Too late, you realize that the old lady has put something in the tea.

</aside>

<aside> <img src="/icons/arrow-right_lightgray.svg" alt="/icons/arrow-right_lightgray.svg" width="40px" /> Try to run away.

</aside>

<aside> <img src="/icons/arrow-right_lightgray.svg" alt="/icons/arrow-right_lightgray.svg" width="40px" /> Succumb to sleep.

</aside>