The corridor outside the psychiatric wing smelled of disinfectant and silence.
Devendra walked beside his mother, his steps uneven, his expression… wrong.
Not scared.
Not sad.
Empty — and smiling.
His mother tightened her grip on his wrist, afraid that if she let go, even for a second, he might drift away into something she could no longer reach.
Inside the doctor's room, everything was white.
White walls.
White ceiling.
White light that felt too sharp for human eyes.
Devendra sat down slowly, then suddenly laughed.
Not loud.
Not happy.
Uncontrolled.
The psychiatrist, a middle-aged man with calm eyes, closed his file and leaned forward.
Doctor:
"Devendra… tell me your symptoms. Why are you behaving like this?"
Devendra tilted his head.
His smile widened.
Devendra:
"I had a dream."
He chuckled again, fingers trembling.
Devendra:
"I don't know how many times I died in it. Countless times. Again… and again… and again."
His mother froze.
Devendra:
"Sometimes I'm locked inside a white room. No doors. No windows. Just white. I scream, but nothing comes out."
He suddenly burst into laughter — sharp, broken, frightening.
The doctor exchanged a quick glance with Devendra's mother.
Doctor (softly):
"It seems he's suffered a very deep trauma. Considering his age… this isn't something we rush. We'll start treatment slowly."
As the doctor spoke, Devendra's smile faded.
Because he heard something else.
A voice.
Right above his thoughts.
A girl's voice — calm, amused… dangerous.
Girl (inside his head):
"No one can tell you about me. Not your mother. Not this doctor."
Devendra's breathing slowed.
The room felt colder.
Girl:
"But maybe… it feels like I've already ruined you."
Devendra's eyes widened.
In his vision, the white room cracked — and she stood there, laughing.
Girl:
"I want you to know one thing."
She leaned closer.
Girl:
"I wanted you to cry for me."
Her laughter echoed — not in the room, but inside Devendra's skull.
Then, suddenly—
Silence.
Girl (whispering):
"I'm leaving now. Bye, Devendra."
Devendra jerked forward, gasping.
The doctor called his name.
His mother shook him in panic.
But Devendra was staring at the wall… smiling faintly.
Because for the first time—
The voice was gone.