Jack Armen lived a quiet life with his father, Maikel.
His mother had died giving birth to him—a tragedy Maikel never spoke about directly.
Only once in a while, he'd mutter, "Some wounds never heal," and let silence do the rest.
To fill the emptiness, Jack escaped into online games—his favorite: Call of Duty.
Hours blurred as he played deep into the night, headset on, chatting with strangers who felt more familiar than the people around him.
Maikel disapproved.
"Jack, don't spend so much time playing," he'd warn.
"You never know who you're really talking to online. People aren't always what they seem."
But Jack shrugged it off.
To him, the game wasn't just a game—it was connection.
It was the only place where his loneliness didn't echo.
Then, one night, Maikel overheard something.
Jack was laughing—sharing details about his girlfriend, opening up more than Maikel had heard in years. But instead of relief, Maikel's expression darkened.
The next morning, Maikel called Jack into the living room.
His voice was low. Measured. Different.
"Jack," he said, staring out the window,
"I need to tell you a story. A real one.
A terrifying story about what's hiding behind those screens."
Jack didn't know it yet.
But that story would change everything.