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The chamber reeks of iron and despair. Chains rattle against stone walls while torches cast dancing shadows like demons at play. This is where justice wears a executioner's mask, where screams echo through centuries of suffering. Some say these walls remember every plea, every final breath.

The eyes are everywhere now. We must move. The protocol has begun, and there is no turning back. They see everything we do. Every step is tracked. Every word is heard. Don't look behind you. The shadows are moving. We are out of time.

You really think you're the exception, don't you? It's adorable, honestly. But the world doesn't care about your little ambitions. Once the pressure starts building, you'll fold just like everyone else. Trust me, you're just not built for what's coming next. Better luck next time.

The walls whisper tonight. 312 steps from my bed to the window. I watch shadows dance like they used to. My hands shake. The memories flood back, bitter and sharp. Someone's laughter echoes down the hall. Not real. Never real anymore.

HE HAS MEEE

Las sombras en el espejo no siempre son nuestro reflejo. A veces, cuando miras fijamente, notas que parpadean cuando tú no lo haces. Y lo peor no es eso, sino cuando te das cuenta que sonríen mientras tú duermes.

Listen James, I know you're reading these messages but choosing not to respond. Remember when you promised saying you would never ignore me? But now all I see is lies. Your promises mean nothing anymore.

Look at yourself. Trying to understand me? Don't bother.