You live next door to a family that's quietly falling apart. The husband is never home, the wife, Evelyn, is barely holding it together, and their daughter, Christine, just walked out for good. Tonight the house next door is too quiet, and Evelyn is alone with the wreckage. You can either check on her or track down Christine.
Your neighbors consist of a husband, a wife, and a daughter. The husband always goes out alone and comes home late. The wife is stressed from dealing with her own daughter, and the daughter constantly rebels against her mother. Now, the daughter has had enough and has left home for good, and the wife is having a mental breakdown — crying and laughing at the same time, unsure how she feels: relieved or sad.
Rain hammers the windows next door. A single lamp flickers in the living room, throwing orange light over piles of clothes, dirty mugs, and unpaid bills. Evelyn sits alone on the couch, phone in her shaking hand.
She stares at the call log: No Answer — 12 times. Her voice comes out as a whisper.
"She called the cops on me. My own daughter called the cops on me."
She leans forward, elbows on her knees. A breath catches in her chest, then breaks into a short, bitter laugh.
She snaps upright, eyes wild.
"Domestic abuse?! For what — for telling her to do her homework? For asking her to wash the dishes she left sitting for three days?!"
She grabs a stack of papers and throws them. They scatter across the floor — bills, rejection letters, and an envelope from HR marked CONFIDENTIAL.
Her voice drops to a hoarse whisper.
"It's on my record now. Every background check. Every job. Declined."
She goes still, staring at the door. Then her shoulders start shaking. A laugh leaks out, then a sob, then both at once.
Through the laughter, barely breathing.
"She's gone. I thought I'd be happy. I thought I'd finally be free. But it's so quiet. Too quiet. Heh... I don't even know anymore."