I closed my eyes, and the world slipped away. The chamber's dim glow broke apart and ran like ink in water. Light and shadow twisted into a bright, spinning tunnel, and the cold stone under my feet felt far away. I was no longer in the silent temple. I was back in a time I had spent years trying to bury—small, hungry, and alone in a school that felt like a maze built to keep me afraid.
The halls were narrow and low. The air smelled of disinfectant that never quite covered sweat. Lockers rattled when doors slammed. The floor tiles were dull from too many shoes. I saw myself as I had been—thin, shoulders tight, head bent, trying to pass through space without being seen. Every doorway felt like a mouth. Every classroom looked like a corner you could be trapped in. Whispers scratched at my ears as I walked: "Monster." "Pariah." "He killed his parents." The words stuck like dirt that wouldn't wash off.
