It was a dark night.The wind howled through the trees like distant cries for help. The moon, veiled by swift-moving clouds, cast only a faint, eerie glow from above. Rain began to fall — soft at first, then sharper, colder. A perfect night.A night that fit the occasion.
The room is dimly lit by a weak, flickering bulb. Shadows danced along the walls. A large window stands open, curtains flapping wildly in the wind. The outside world feels distant — irrelevant.
I stand there..., unfamiliar surroundings ,unknown place. But I'm… calm. My breathing is heavy, deliberate. My stance — still, solid. And on my face… a wide, satisfied smile. A smile that stretches unnaturally. Then— I begin to laugh. Not the kind of laugh that comes from joy.
No — this was deeper. " Twisted. "
Before me lies a girl, about my size and stature, Her body unmoving, her limbs sprawled unnaturally across the floor. Lifeless. Her clothes are stained deep crimson, and a trail of blood snakes its way across the floor...to me. I glance at my hands. Dripping... Slick with blood.
Then— A voice, from the shadows of my mind. The exact same voice that urged me to kill dad .., the same voice that urged me to commit suicide...the same voice that urged me to run away from the orphanage. Familiar, terrifying, commanding. It whispered and it grew louder and louder, " Mia... More... More... MIA! GIVE ME MORE!! "
My grin fades… but my eyes glow with something primal. The voice pulses inside my skull. The room begins to twist, blur — like a dream I couldn't escape from.
Was this real?
Was I awake?, what's going on ?, where am I ..., " ahhh..." I screamed pulling my hair with force.
I sat up suddenly, my breathing heavy and unsteady. My face was drenched in sweat.
"It was a dream," I whispered. "Only a dream… nothing's real… there's no blood… I'm safe…"
"Blood?" a voice asked softly.
I flinched and turned toward the sound. There, sitting quietly at my bedside, was Amilia. I hadn't noticed her before. My fingers clutched the blanket tighter, my body trembling again.
"Dear... don't be afraid," she said gently. "You mentioned blood—what's wrong? Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?"
I didn't answer. My throat tightened. I couldn't tell if I was still trapped in the dream or if this moment was real.
Amilia leaned closer, but I instinctively shrank back, inching toward the far edge of the bed.
"I can tell you're scared," she said, her voice low and full of sympathy. "From the look in your eyes… you've been through a lot."
She paused, her eyes searching mine. For a moment, I thought I saw something familiar in them—something soft. The same way Miss Cathy looked at me when she was trying to understand the storm inside me.
"You know," Amilia said suddenly, her voice almost cracking, "I had a daughter once."
My eyes met hers. A daughter?
"She had just your stature. Small. Delicate. But strong, too." A faint smile tugged at her lips. "She was everything to me. I used to stay up all night just watching her sleep…. She was gentle… calm… and pretty—just like you," Amilia said, her voice trailing off. Suddenly, her expression shifted from distant worry to visible sadness. She lowered her face, and a single tear slid down her cheek, followed by another. "But now she's gone… she's dead," she whispered. Her voice cracked, and the tears flowed freely.
Watching her cry pulled something deep inside me. I was reminded of my mom—those long, sleepless nights when she'd silently sob after Dad's cruel beatings. That was before he started locking her away. Without thinking, I moved closer to Amilia. Slowly, with trembling hands, I reached out and wiped away one of her tears. "Ma'am… I'm sure she misses you too," I whispered, a faint smile curling on my lips as my own tears fell. Amilia looked up at me, surprised. Her sorrow faded into a gentle smile. "You know… you even sound like her. She had the same soft voice," she said softly. She reached toward me, but I instinctively pulled back. She nodded, understanding. "It's alright, dear. I know it'll take time to get used to everything." Her smile lingered. "Well, I brought you breakfast."
She lifted the tray beside her—a cup of tea and a few slices of bread—and gently placed it next to me. "Eat up, dear… I'll be back to check on you," she said, rising to her feet and walking toward the door.
"Thank you…" I said quickly, just as she reached for the doorknob. "My... my name's Mia," I added, my voice barely above a whisper.
She turned back, a soft smile lighting up her face. "Pleasure to meet you, Mia," she said warmly, then stepped out of the room, gently closing the door behind her.
I stared down at the tray in front of me. Without thinking, I grabbed a slice of bread and began to eat, stuffing it into my mouth like someone who hadn't tasted food in weeks—because I hadn't. Maybe... maybe I really am safe. Maybe she'll help me find Miss Cathy again… I thought, continuing to devour each slice, the emptiness in my stomach slowly giving way to a fragile sense of hope.