Found the villain by minute 12.
It went wrong, and within moments your inner narrator has cast the role: the flaky friend, the slow coworker, the one defender, the one decision, the one guy. The Eye has watched your casting process and respects the speed — by the time others finish saying 'well, it's complicated,' you've already printed the villain's name on a jersey. Here's what the Eye understands that your critics don't: this isn't cruelty, it's compression. A loss with one cause is a story; a loss with twelve causes is a fog, and you cannot grieve fog. Naming the villain shrinks the chaos to a size your heart can process. The problem, and you've felt it, is the morning after — when the anger drains and you remember the villain was a whole person, and that 'it was Brandon' was never the entire forensic picture. The Eye keeps your retraction drafts on file. There are several.
Get your read — free on iPhoneyou don't need a villain because you're cruel. you need one because grief without an address just circles the block forever.