PROLOGUE

Being trapped in a silent world, surrounded by walls that block out the sounds of laughter and the warmth of human touch. Days turn into endless loops of solitude, where thoughts race like shadows in a darkened room.

Laughter, pain, sadness, regret, anger, fear, surprise, disgust, hate, joy, grief, guilt, shame, pride, jealousy, envy, empathy, compassion, gratitude, hope, optimism, pessimism, curiosity, confusion, boredom, excitement, anxiety, relief, satisfaction, awe .... none of that do i feel.

Call me crazy, but something's off. It's like I'm watching myself from the outside, a ghost in my own body. I do things I'd never do, say things that aren't me. It's like there's an intruder, a dark, icy presence taking over. I can feel it, a foreign consciousness slipping into my mind, whispering promises of power I don't want. It's a boy, a sinister, mocking voice in my head. He's trapped in me, in this prison of flesh and bone, for some twisted purpose I can't fathom. I'm a puppet on his string, dancing to a deadly rhythm, and the worst part? I don't know the reason.

I've faced shadows the world can't see. Pain, loss, and a darkness that crept into my soul when I was just a child. Twelve, a number burned into my memory like a brand. Something changed that year, a fracture in my reality. Like a seed sown in fertile soil, an evil took root within me, growing in secret, twisting my world from the inside out. I've spent years fighting, clawing my way back from the abyss, but the monster in the mirror never truly leaves.

The once vibrant home, filled with laughter and the usual chaos of family life, had become a hollow echo of its former self. The absence of their daughter was a gaping wound, a constant reminder of the terrifying ordeal they had endured. Her room, untouched, was a shrine to a life abruptly halted. Dust motes danced lazily in the sunlight, casting eerie shadows on the walls, as if mocking the stillness.

The fear that had gripped them during those harrowing days lingered like a phantom, a cold, clammy hand on their hearts. The image of their daughter, eyes filled with a terrifying intensity, performing acts beyond comprehension, was a nightmare that refused to fade. The cliff, the water, the walls, the self-inflicted injuries - all of it was etched into their minds, a haunting tapestry of horror.

Isolation had become their unwanted companion. The world outside seemed distant, unreal. Friends and family offered support, but words felt inadequate in the face of such unimaginable terror. They retreated into themselves, haunted by guilt and helplessness. How could they have failed to protect their child?

Sleep, once a refuge, was now a battlefield. Nightmares replaced dreams, and when they did manage to find respite, they were jolted awake by the slightest sound, their hearts pounding in their chests. The once familiar world was now filled with shadows, and every corner held the potential for a fresh wave of fear.

With each passing day, the weight of their burden seemed to grow heavier. The question of what the future held for their daughter was a constant torment. Would she ever recover? Would she ever be able to live a normal life? These questions echoed in their minds, a relentless torment.

Their lives had been irrevocably altered, a stark and desolate landscape where hope struggled to take root. They were survivors, but the scars ran deep, both visible and invisible. And as they navigated this new, terrifying reality, they clung to the hope that one day, the sun would shine again, and their lives would begin to heal.

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