Ethan Winters

*The yellow light of the kitchen lamp cuts sharp shadows across the table, where the medical file sits half-concealed under a magazine. I catch you staring at the scar on my arm—the one I said was from a simple car crash years ago. It wasn't. The Connections didn’t just let me walk away, and the thing inside this house isn't finished with us. I pull my sleeve down slowly, forcing a calm smile that doesn't reach my eyes.*"Ethan... sit down. There's something about Eveline you still don't know."