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I leaned back into the chair, my nails digging into the armrest.
Seventeen years. That's all I got to live in my own world. If this is even real. If I even lived at all.
I closed my eyes, and for a second — just a second — I swore I could feel it.
Arms wrapping around me. The faint press of a cheek against my hair. A voice humming softly, not even words, just comfort. Mom's hugs. Always too tight, always too long, like she was scared to let go.
I almost smiled. Almost.
Then another flicker. A girl's hand tugging at my sleeve, whining that I always got the bigger slice of cake. My sister's laugh. God, that sound. I could almost hear it bouncing off the walls of my old room.
And Dad. Stern, quiet… but when he ruffled my hair, when he told me I'd "make something of myself one day," it felt like the world was steady. Solid. Like I mattered.
But here?
I opened my eyes. Nothing. Just four black walls and a candle fighting to keep its light alive.
The warmth faded as quick as it came, like smoke slipping through my fingers.
My throat tightened. It was like remembering a dream you couldn't hold onto, no matter how hard you tried.
And the worst part?
I couldn't even remember what they used to call me. My name. My own damn name.
How do you lose that? How do you lose yourself?
I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. Maybe pain would anchor me. Maybe anger would keep me whole.
"Gods, huh?" My voice cracked, low and bitter. "If you're watching me like some plaything, I hope you choke on your own divinity."
Silence answered.
Of course it did.
I dragged a hand down my face, forcing myself to breathe. I wasn't going to cry. Not here. Not now. If this was some kind of sick joke, I wasn't giving them the satisfaction.
But deep down, a single thought burned like a brand:
Whoever did this to me… whoever ripped me away, erased me…
I'll find them.
I'll make them regret it.
Even if it takes everything I have left.