You quickly bring your hand to your mouth before glancing at the door behind you with wide eyes.
                          
'Whew, thank God nobody heard that.' 
                          
Leaning back in the way too comfy armchair, you can already feel yourself growing bored as you tilt your head in thought.
                          
'Well now, how am I going to entertain myself?'
                          
You mindlessly spend the next hour doing this or that around the office: napping, briefly snooping over William's desk, or simply thinking to yourself.
                          
'I wish I had my phone...'
                          
Stretching your arms, you yawn before lifting yourself off the seat and walking towards the perfectly tidy desk apart from numerous papers scattered along one end.
                          
On the other side, a delicate picture frame rests facedown, partially hidden under a thin stack of leather books.
                          
Curious, you eye the door before lifting the frame with one hand and turning it towards you, watching as several small shards of glass clink to the desk and reveal the face of a strawberry blonde woman with green eyes.
                          
You squint at the photo.
                          
'Who is she? And why is the glass shattered?'
                          
Before possibly getting yourself into trouble, you return the frame to its original position and walk back to your chair, sighing in thought.
                          
Your eyes light up as you suddenly remember that Henry brought you clothing, and you grab and search the bag, more than excited for an outfit change.
                          
Peering inside, you are pleased to discover that his wife's style was actually quite similar to yours... apart from the obvious 80s theme.
                          
You close the door before scrutinizing the office for cameras, then excitedly arrange the cutest possible outfit before changing into it.
                          
'Hmm, scarlet top with mom jeans... no wait, uh... pleated skirt with an ivory sweater... but what about...'
                          
Gazing into a mirror by the desk, you smile at your reflection upon finally having chosen an outfit.
                          
Moments later, you hear a knock at the door before William lightly pushes it open with his back, a full stack of papers in his arms as he finishes his conversation with Henry.
                          
"Well that's fine," he says, nodding before turning around and fully entering the office.
                          
As he sees you, several papers drop out of his arms and his face turns a subtle red.
                          
"What's wrong?" you ask, walking over to him with a slightly worried expression.
                          
"Oh, it's nothing," he responds, composing himself as he retrieves the fallen papers, "you just look... pretty."
                          
You blush as he says this, then turn your face to the side.
                          
"Thank you," you smile, watching as he seats himself in his black leather office chair before you hesitantly debate whether or not to say something.
                          
'Part of me wants to know what he 'needs to talk with me about'... but it really could be anything.'
                          
Interrupting your thoughts, William's charmingly smooth voice suddenly fills the room.
                          
"So, I have something very important to ask you."
                          
Swallowing, you nod your head.
                          
"Okay... what is it?" you nervously ask.
                          
Seated behind his desk, he slowly stands before navigating around the edge and walking over to you, pale blue eyes fixed on yours.
                          
His expression is entirely unreadable, but a faint smirk rests on his lips upon noticing your apprehension.
                          
He leans himself on the edge of his desk, barely cocking his head as he smugly motions for you to come closer.
                          
You feel your breath hitch as your heart begins pounding out of your chest, worrying you into wondering if he could hear it.
                          
"Y/n..." he starts, looking down at you.
                          
You know he wants you to meet his eyes, but you just can't... you are far too distressed.
                          
Within seconds, your heart drops as he finally asks you the one question you've been dreading.
                          
"I want to know what happened the night that led you here."
                          
Instantly, it was as if the thousands of thoughts bombarding your head and holding you captive disappeared without a trace, leaving you with no words.
                          
Forcing your chin up to look at him, his eyes search yours.
                          
"I have been more than patient with you, but I need to know."
                          
He restrains himself well, but you can hear the irritation through his stern tone of voice.
                          
'This is an impossible situation. He will certainly think I'm lying whether I actually do or not...'
                          
You try to form words, try to say anything, but your breathing is too unstable.
                          
"Dear..." he growls, frightening you as his expression intensifies.
                          
You don't want to cry, but tears inevitably well in your eyes as his displeased tone reminds you of 'that' night.
                          
"M-Mr. Afton," you begin, deciding to finally come out with it.
                          
"...d-do you trust me?"
                          
A perplexed look appears on his face before he squints his eyes, questionably.
                          
"We'll see." 
                          
You sigh as you look up at him, hardly able to meet his gaze.
                          
"All you have to do is tell me the truth. Do I make myself clear?"
                          
A tear drops down the side of your face before you look away, hopeless.
                          
Knowing he would likely never believe your story, you tell him everything.
                          
You tell him about Isaac, about the abandoned  stone building, the empty office... you tell him about the intact walnut desk, about the mauve bits of wallpaper still clinging upright, the odd discovery of a pristine golden coin... your heart vigorously pounds as you tell him about the dim hallway, about the deafening ringing, the overwhelming spinning sensation... 
                          
And how you met him, in a world of confusion.
                          
Deafening silence fills the room as the two of you sit there.
                          
'He is going to hurt me. He is going to kill me.'
                          
You feel his eyes stare into you as your head remains down, your face out of sight.
                          
Your heartbeat resonates past your chest and into your ears as it completely masks the echo of the only other sound in the room, the faint ticking of a clock in the corner.
                          
"Y/n..."
                          
Your breathing stops as you close your eyes.
                          
Suddenly, the unbearably cold feeling of a warm hand touching your alarmingly hot face startles you into looking up.
                          
As if in slow motion, you desperately watch as his lips part and he whispers just three words, enough to alter the course of your entire life.



                          
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