(Myra’s POV)
’Wh~ ... wh~ what is happening?’ A dazzling burst of fluorescent light filled my vision as my eyes closed tightly on their own. A piercing pitter-pattering sound, similar to torrential rain, pounded my eardrums. I shut my ears with my hands and let the moment pass, reminding myself over and over again, ’It’s just a vision, Myra. It’s just a vision. Nothing is going to happen to you. Be brave. Let it pass. Let it pass.’
After what felt like hours, the sound lessened and gradually faded, and so did the gleaming white. I peeked open one eye and saw myself standing in a dark, damp tunnel.
My eyes darted in search of something or someone I could recognise, but there wasn’t anything of that sort. The place was completely empty.
"Where am I this time?" I mumbled to myself. Then I called, "Hello, is someone here? Hello~~~~???" Seconds passed by, but nothing happened. No one appeared; the only reply was dead silence.
I started walking toward the source of the light, supporting myself on the uneven wall. After walking for a while, the surroundings brightened a bit.
To my surprise, the moist, graphite walls had something inscribed on them. But when I tried to read it, the words were blurry and wobbly, almost unrecognisable. I pressed forward for some more, and the haziness covering the words cleared little by little.
The first sentence I read was: ’Mom, Dad, why did you leave me all alone in this world? I am scared of being around so many vampires. They are terrifying. I can’t sleep without you both. No one likes me here.’ The bold letters were flaring in fiery, dangerous red and shaking. I looked at it with curiosity as I tried to make sense of it. ’Mom, Dad? Vampires? Huhh?’
Then another sentence caught my eye. It read: ’I don’t want to live anymore. Take me with you.’ Then another one: ’They all hate me.’
Then the next:
’I am not worthy.’
’I am useless.’
’I want to run away.’
’I want to get out.’
’I want to live an ordinary life.’
’They all make fun of me.’
’I feel suffocated.’
’I feel trapped.’
’Mom, they whisper your name and mock you.’
’Mom ... Dad ... I miss you. Please come back for me. PLEASEEE~~~~~ ......’
Endless lines were inscribed on both sides of the tunnel. Some were tiny while some were relatively big. Some were written in vermilion shade, some in neon orange, and some in lemonish yellow.
I still couldn’t make out what this place was about. It felt like I had entered someone’s personal diary. The atmosphere was oppressive and depressing. Whoever wrote this was struggling in their life. I could feel it. Reading those lines was enough to make a chill run down my spine.
I kept plodding, and gradually the lines shifted their colour. They no longer represented danger or caution. It appeared as a light shade of purple; some were even blue: ’Today he had returned from his business trip after a whole month and praised me.’
’He is strict, but I know he cares for me.’
’He fights with others for me.’
I tilted my head, trying to figure out who this ’he’ was. But nothing particularly clicked.
Then the hues of the words changed again, and so did the colour of the tunnel walls. It turned from dark graphite to a shade of light grey.
The letters were written in light pink now: ’I will work hard on myself and make ’him’ proud of me.’
’He is the only family I have left.’
’I will stay by his side, forever.’
’No one dares to bully me.’
’I will become strong.’
The attention shifted somewhat when the next sentence stated: ’I finally get to meet ’the target’ face to face. She is ... an interesting person.’

’She has finally arrived in the city. My revenge plan can take place now.’
’I went out with her, pretending to show her around. We talked about a lot of things. Yet her guard remained as high. I will try again.’
’I approached her again. Helping her when her classmates bullied her. But she kept her distance and handled things on her own. No worries, I have time. She will eventually let her guard down. I will try harder next time.’
What is this person on about? Alarm bells were flaring in my mind now. It just felt strange to me. I kept on reading.
’She is not how I thought she would be. She has a past just like me.’
’She drank a lot today, and I carried her on my back all the way to her house. She is so adorable when she blabbers and pouts.’
’She had forgotten about our talk from last night.’
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