ISAAC'S POV
I was back in my childhood bedroom. The one with the faded Superman wallpaper, its colors long drained, peeling at the corners as if even the hero had given up trying to stay. The window was still crooked, still refusing to shut properly, letting in a thin whistling draft that used to keep me awake at night.
But something was wrong. My chest tightened the moment I realized the door was locked. I heard the deadbolt slide into place with a sound I knew too well, that slow scrape of metal against metal. It was the same sound that had once meant punishment, silence, and hours of staring at these four walls until the patterns in the wallpaper twisted into faces.
