The oppressive silence of the room cracked as my eyelids fluttered open, revealing a scene of abject horror. Crimson, thick and viscous, painted every surface, its metallic tang assaulting my nostrils, a suffocating, visceral presence. My vision, swimming and disoriented, focused on my own hands, slick and dripping with the ghastly substance. They were buried, impossibly, within a cavity in a body—Oliver's. Our eyes met, a fleeting, agonizing connection. A whisper, a ragged, dying question, escaped his lips: "Why...?" Then, the light faded from his gaze.

A chilling autonomy seized my limbs. I moved, a puppet on unseen strings, compelled into a macabre dance of horror. "A nightmare," I chanted, a desperate mantra against the encroaching madness. "A horrifying nightmare." The illusion shattered, revealing Aiden, his face a mask of bestial hunger, rending flesh from Alex and Abel, their screams swallowed by the grotesque figure that writhed upon his back.

The suffocating darkness yielded, and I gasped awake, the spectral echo of screams still ringing in my ears. I found myself at a funeral, the somber atmosphere heavy with unspoken grief. A black suit, stiff and unfamiliar, draped my frame. My eyes, drawn to the funeral stand, widened in disbelief. The faces staring back were those of my parents, their images framed in cold, unyielding wood. The dam of my composure broke, unleashing a torrent of inconsolable grief.

Leo and Alex, their faces etched with sympathy, attempted to offer solace, their words a distant murmur in the roaring chaos of my mind. Alice arrived later, her presence a silent, mournful vigil. The day dissolved into a blur of numb despair. I retreated to my room, a self-imposed exile, the weight of my sorrow crushing any desire to face the world.

My relatives, a silent, watchful presence, occupied the house, their attempts at care a distant, unwelcome intrusion. I drifted, lost in a fog of grief, oblivious to the machinations brewing around me. A week passed, an eternity of silent torment. My uncle, his expression a mask of false concern, presented me with a sheaf of documents, urging me to sign. My mind, fractured and fragile, offered no resistance. I signed, unaware of the catastrophic consequences that awaited.

The next morning, the icy shock of reality shattered my fragile peace. A bucket of frigid water cascaded over me, jolting me awake with a gasp. My aunt, her eyes blazing with a cruel triumph, thrust the signed documents into my face. Property deeds. The realization struck like a physical blow. My uncle, a sudden, contradictory figure, intervened, halting her assault. He soothed her, then turned to me, his embrace a chilling paradox, a gesture of false comfort amidst the unfolding betrayal. Confusion, sharp and disorienting, swirled within me, a vortex of unanswered questions and looming dread.