Aisha’s condition worsened by the hour. Her parents, no longer able to bear watching their daughter slip further away, reached out to every specialist, every doctor, every healer they could find. But nothing worked. Aisha’s once lively eyes were now hollow, her body limp, her skin pale and cold to the touch. She was... empty.

One night, as her parents sat by her bedside, a flicker of movement caught their attention. Aisha’s fingers twitched, slowly, almost imperceptibly. Her parents leaned forward, breathless. Was she waking up?

Then, without warning, her eyes snapped open. But they weren’t the same eyes. They were dark, abyssal, with no recognition in them—only a deep, unsettling void. Her voice broke the silence, but it was not the voice of the Aisha they knew. It was a low, guttural rasp that seemed to echo from the depths of some unseen abyss.

“Aisha?” her mother whispered, her voice trembling with fear.

But Aisha’s lips curled into a chilling smile, one that didn’t belong to the sweet, innocent girl she once was. “She is gone,” the voice rasped. “Only I remain.”

Her parents recoiled in horror as the room seemed to grow colder, the air thick with an unseen malevolence. It was then that they understood—Aisha was no longer their daughter. Whatever had taken over her had been lying dormant, waiting for the right moment to emerge.

Aisha’s body twitched violently, and she rose from the bed as if pulled by invisible strings. Her parents tried to approach, but something in the room—some force—pushed them back, slamming them against the walls. Her mother screamed, but her voice was drowned out by the rising intensity of the whispers, now filling the room, crawling under their skin like an infection.