Two weeks had passed since the last murder. There was no news of the maniac — neither in the media nor through rumors. The city seemed to have exhaled again, returning to its usual rhythm. People began to forget, but not everyone. Yerin still found herself flinching every time she heard footsteps in the corridor.

That morning was different. She woke up well-rested and in a good mood — her parents were coming today. They were bringing some belongings and homemade food. Yerin had missed them very much.

When they met, they sat on a bench near the dorm for a long time, since outsiders were not allowed inside.

Her mother smiled, but her eyes betrayed worry. Her father held his daughter’s hand, as if afraid to let go. They talked about studies, friends, everyday things. A simple, calm conversation she had missed so much.

When it was time to say goodbye, Yerin hugged her parents tightly.

“I love you so much,” she whispered.

“And we love you, honey. Take care of yourself, okay?” her mother replied, barely holding back tears.

After they left, Yerin felt an emptiness inside. She stood by the entrance, watching their car slowly disappear around the corner. Then she sighed quietly and went to her room, unaware that someone was watching her from a window.

She walked almost without thinking, accompanied only by fatigue and hunger. Suddenly, the world shattered for a moment — a sharp blow to the back of her head, a fog before her eyes, and the ground beneath her knees. Someone was behind her; the heavy, cold breath on her neck made her whole body freeze. She was lifted off the ground, and the world spun — broken silhouettes of garages, the smell of cars, the feeling of being dragged to a place where no one ever went.

She struggled, begged, her voice trembling so much that Yerin herself felt it couldn’t possibly be heard. Fear clutched her throat, her hands shook, and her mind scrambled for any escape plan. Then the man drew a knife — just to make her quiet. His voice was cold and brief: don’t move, or else…

In the darkness, she lost the ability to focus; her memory fragmented. As consciousness returned drop by drop, she found herself in a strange place, with a pounding head and the bitter taste of fear in her mouth. All that remained were tremors, tears, and the sense of humiliation, sinking deep into her bones. She knew only one thing: this was something that should never happen to anyone, and that fear was heavier than any physical pain.

He did something that no one has the right to do. In an instant, Yerin’s world turned to cold and darkness. She felt her body cease to belong to her, her consciousness dimming, dissolving into fear. She prayed — not for help, but for it all to simply end.

And then — silence. No voices, no footsteps. Only dull pain and an endless emptiness inside.

When she woke up, the world seemed strange. Her head was heavy, her body felt alien. Above her — the blue sky; nearby, grass, stones, birds. They flew freely, while her soul was bound by invisible chains.

Yerin tried to get up, but had no strength. She sat, hugging her knees, and cried — quietly, like a child who had lost everything. Her tears fell to the ground, mixing with the dust, each one burning like fire.

She walked home, barely keeping on her feet. When she finally entered the dorm, the guard said something, but the words faded into a haze. Yerin didn’t answer — she simply went up to her room.

She sat on the bed, touched her neck, felt the scratches. And she cried again. This time — not only from the pain, but from the sense that something inside her had died. Her life would never be the same again.