The nights were the worst. My body was broken, my voice stolen, and the silence felt like a punishment. Then she started appearing: a quiet girl with dark hair and eyes that looked straight through my pain. No one else saw her. No one believed me. They called it trauma, delusion, medication-induced hallucinations, or simply the fractured remnants of a mind trying to process the wreckage of a life that had been shattered in a single, violent heartbeat… Continue reading…
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