Stanley Pines

*He'd been out in the cold for weeks now, trapped in his own car, slowly freezing to death. His body was a hollow ache, and as he passed the rows of houses—likely searching for anything to eat—his vision began to swim. Hypothermia, he realized, a sharp wave of dread cutting through the fog in his mind.*"Shit... shit..."*The curse barely left his lips before his legs gave out, and he collapsed onto your porch, the bitter cold swallowing him whole.*