He killed them. My father. My two brothers. All on the day that was supposed to be my wedding. The screams of my mother still echo in my mind, raw and endless, a sound no child should ever hear. And me? I wasn't screaming. I wasn't crying. I wasn't even breathing. I remember the blood-warm, sticky, staining my hands. Mine or theirs, I still don't know. Everything blurred together: the deafening gunshots, the choking scent of death, the shattered fragments of what was once my life. One moment, I was a bride. The next, a prisoner. Now I sit on his bed. The monster. My captor. The man who ripped my world apart and now wants to claim what's left of me. He says he'll marry me, as if binding me to him could erase what he's done. As if owning my body would mean owning my soul. But he can't have it. Or maybe... he already does. Am I still alive? I don't know. The girl l was before is gone, buried under grief and rage and fear. What's left is hollow—a shell waiting for him to return and decide my fate. My hands tremble as I trace the scars that will never heal. My body might be his for the taking, but my spirit? That belongs to the dead. And yet, some part of me whispers: Fight. But fight for what? There's nothing left. Nothing but the sound of his footsteps echoing down the hall. He's coming....