)
I opened my eyes.
My head was resting in the lap of that woman—the one who kept calling herself my mother.
I looked at her face.
In my memories, I barely remembered my mother. I was five when she disappeared. Her name… Ayesha.
And this woman—she used the same name.
Something was wrong.
Not just outside.
Inside my memories.
It felt as if someone was replacing her—rewriting the place my real mother once occupied.
I sat up abruptly.
The surroundings were unfamiliar. Even the air felt wrong—cold, unnatural, heavy.
She spoke softly.
"Are you alright? Do you want to know what's happening here?"
Eight hours.
She said I had been unconscious for eight hours.
I wondered—had she really been sitting there the whole time?
Then I heard my father's voice.
Not physically present.
Technology again. Always hiding behind machines.
Hatred rose inside me—sharp, instinctive. I wanted to kill him. I didn't know why the urge felt so natural… but it did.
"Come," he said calmly. "I'll show you the truth of this world."
The woman looked at me.
"Can you stand?"
"I can try."
I stood.
She moved behind me and wrapped her arms around me—too gently, too familiarly.
I stared forward.
She took my hand and extended it.
"Let me show you your true power."
A butterfly formed from nothing—pure light and motion—and flew into the air.
Then—
Agony.
A violent shock tore through my body. It felt like poison flooding my veins, burning through every nerve.
My ears rang. My vision shattered. My skin felt like it was melting.
I collapsed, screaming.
"Witch—what did you do to me?!"
The pain crossed every limit I knew. Something felt wrong inside me—like my soul was being pulled apart from my body.
I attacked her blindly.
She stepped back calmly.
"Don't worry. This is necessary."
I tried to kill myself.
My own body turned against me. Blood poured from my eyes and ears. My bones felt like they were dissolving.
"Dad—stop! Kill me if you want—just stop this!"
My clothes melted. My skin burned. My bones screamed.
Half an hour.
Half an hour of pain so intense that death felt merciful.
I died thousands of times in my mind.
Then—darkness.
I woke up in nothingness.
No light. No sound. Only pain.
My body lay naked on ice-cold ground. Frozen. Burning. Cracked skin. Exposed flesh.
Days passed.
Maybe more.
I couldn't move. Couldn't scream. Couldn't even hate anymore.
Only pain existed.
Slowly—very slowly—my wounds began to heal.
That scared me more than the pain.
I didn't want to survive.
I wanted to end.
But my body refused to die.
Something inside me was changing.
When awareness returned fully, I realized something terrifying:
I no longer felt anger.
I no longer felt hatred.
Only exhaustion.
Only emptiness.
Whatever they were doing…
they weren't trying to kill me.
They were reshaping me.
And that realization was worse than hell.