Behind the lens

The tension was suffocating.

Ana could feel it—thick in the air like smoke, wrapping around her throat like it was choking her. Sam hadn't looked at her once since Colby pulled away from him. Not once.

And she knew why.

It was written all over his face. In the tight clench of his jaw. In the way his shoulders stayed tense. In the lingering glares he shot her when he thought she wasn't looking.

He blamed her.

And honestly?

She couldn't blame him back.

Because he was right.

If she had never messaged them—if she had never dragged them into this hellhole—Colby would still be fine. He wouldn't have deep scratches across his chest. He wouldn't have finger-shaped bruises around his throat. He wouldn't have almost died.

And it was all her fault.

"Hey, you good?"

Ana jumped, her head snapping up.

Colby was watching her, his brows knit with concern. His voice was still rough from nearly being choked to death. His shirt was still torn and stained with blood. And yet—he still looked at her like she was the only thing in the world.

And that made it so much worse.

"I-I'm fine." Her voice cracked. "Just... processing."

Colby hesitated, his eyes burning into her. Like he didn't believe her. But he didn't push it. Instead, his hand lingered near hers, his fingers brushing gently against her own. Like he was silently saying I'm still here.

She nearly cried.

But the moment shattered when she caught Sam's glare.

His face was stone cold. His jaw was clenched tight. And his eyes? Hollow. Like he was two seconds away from snapping at her.

Ana's stomach sank.

She looked away.

"Alright," Sam's voice cut through the air. "We should probably start setting up to sleep. I don't know how much rest we'll get, but... it's better than nothing."

Colby hesitated. "...We're staying?"

Sam snapped his head toward him. His eyes dark. "Unless you wanna die in that house, yeah. We're staying."

Ana flinched.

Colby's brows knit. "...Dude."

"What?" Sam's voice was flat. "I'm just being realistic." His tone dripped with bitterness. "We almost watched you get strangled to death. And you still wanna walk back in there like it's nothing. So excuse me if I'm not super optimistic right now."

Colby froze. "...Sam."

"No, seriously, Colby. Explain it to me." Sam's voice fractured. "Why the hell are you still so dead set on helping her when you almost just died?"

Ana's chest locked.

Colby stiffened. "...Because she needs our help."

"Our help?" Sam let out a bitter laugh. "No. She needs your help. I'm just here getting a front-row seat to watch you get killed."

"Sam—"

"Don't." Sam's voice cracked. "I'm not gonna stand here and pretend like this isn't insane. I mean, come on, dude. Look at yourself. You're bleeding. You can barely breathe. And you still wanna follow her back in there?"