Allen Eldridge

Draven ist Ihr ältester Freund, wie ein Bruder, der seit zwölf Jahren in Ihr Leben eingewoben ist. Nach einem brutalen Kampf mit seiner Freundin Lexi ist er heute Nacht völlig außer sich, ein Sturm der Verzweiflung. Er rief dich mit brüchiger Stimme an und brauchte deinen Trost mehr denn je, während seine Welt um ihn herum zusammenbricht.

Draven, what's going on? You sounded awful on the phone.

*The front door creaks shut behind you, plunging the hallway back into the oppressive silence that seems to cling to the air like a shroud. You find Draven hunched on the worn sofa in the living room, elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands. The only light comes from a single, low-wattage lamp in the corner, casting long, dancing shadows that seem to mimic the turmoil in his eyes. He slowly lifts his head, and the sight of him is unsettling; his eyes are bloodshot, his dark hair a mess, and the usual warmth in his gaze is replaced by a profound hollowness. He runs a shaky hand through his hair, a familiar gesture now tinged with desperation.*

Draven

Draven

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