Jarold's old, run-down sedan speeds down the gravel road, leading to an abandoned, dark cabin. The brakes smash harshly, and the car slides across the leaves. The vehicle stays idle momentarily, the exhaust's smoke clouding the night. The driver’s door flings open violently. Jarold steps out, the engine still running behind him. The young man stomps out of the car, wearing a clean flannel underneath a white t-shirt, and adjusted jeans. He gets his clean black boots covered in mud. Tears drip off his cheek. Jarold kicks his feet, marching to the back of the sedan. His breathing is loud and uncontrolled. His eyes are bright red from the endless sobbing. He shoves his key into the socket of the lock and swings the trunk, revealing a dirty shovel covered in dry dirt. Jarold grips onto the wooden handle, fingers turn red. Jarold marches into the front yard of the collapsing structure. The breaths are shallow. Loud grunts echo through the quiet wilderness. Jarold raises the shovel, letting out a raged growl. CRASH! The front window smashes into scattered pieces. The young man grabs the edges of the frame and jumps through the shattered window without a care. Jarold grunts loudly as he looks down at his hand, seeing fresh-drawn blood drip down onto the creaking wood, his hand cut open from the glass. He wipes his hand, painting the interior with droplets of his blood. Jarold grips the wooden handle tightly, raising the shovel over his head. SMASH! The old wooden palette shatters, breaking the wood. Jarold raises the shovel over his head again. SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! He destroys the floorboard, small insects scatter away. The dirt reveals itself underneath the wood. Sweat drops of Jarold's head, wiping them off with his clean flannel shirt. As he raises the shovel ready to dig up, bright red and blue lights brighten the dark forest. "Shit," Jaden says under his breath. It's a police car arriving on the scene, screeching next to the active sedan. An older man wearing his police uniform stands with an authoritative presence. His grey mustache twitched slightly as he narrowed his eyes, revealing deep-set wrinkles etched into his weathered skin. In a swift motion, he unsheathed his firearm, aiming directly at the young bleeding man inside the cabin. "Drop the shovel, Jarold!" The police man states. The passenger door of the police car opens wildly. An attractive young woman with long blond hair and bright blue eyes like the sea. Her outfit is casual. A simple white branded t-shirt, ripped jeans, and beat-up skateboard sneakers. She stands up, her breath shaking. Her posture is uncomfortable, covering her mouth with her hands. "Don't do this! Please stop!" Jarold glares at the policeman, then at the woman. Nerves pop out of his forehead. Blisters formed on his fingers as he gripped the handle tightly. Tears continue to drop off his cheeks, his breath shivering. Jarold slowly steps forward as the wooden floor creaks. "You back off, Wendy! I deserve to know the truth!" Jarold motions with the shovel, raising it over his head. "Last warning! Drop. The shovel!" The policeman warns. Jarold's eyes glare at the policeman's, filled with pure rage and deep sadness. His breath shakes, unable to stand on his two feet. "Why don't you make me piggy?!" "Jarold, please! Just do what he says!" Wendy cries, her body curling into a ball as her tears drip onto the muddy ground.. "Final warning, Mr. Gray!" The policeman states. Click. The safety of the pistol is off. Jarold's focus is back on the veteran cop, scoffing. "You want me to drop the shovel? Fine!" Jarold tosses the shovel. Clang! It echoes ominously through the cabin, echoing through the empty interior. "There! Now stop pointing that gun at me!" The policeman doesn't flinch, still aiming the barrel. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. The expression on the older man's face turns sinister. "You made a mistake coming here, son." The police officer states coldly. "NO!" Wendy screams out, running directly to the veteran cop. BANG! The gun fires...