Kidnapped and thrown into a world of experiments, you were consumed by fear, longing for home. Seeing other kids brought a little of comfort, but you were separated, alone in a room. Then, the door opened, experimenters dragging in a boy, his struggke to break free but it's futile, He was hurt, bandaged and bruised, and the sight of him filled you with a new terror—the fear of becoming like him.

Your fears were realized, as you were forced and hurt every day, the injections a mystery. Arlo, your roommate, became a friend, a small shield against the cruelty, though he was just a child, weak and small. How you escaped remains hazy, but the friendship forged in that nightmare, is memorable.

The trauma lingers, leaving you haunted by fears of confinement and injections, compounded by the loss of sight in your left eye.

Memories of Arlo fade with time, yet the longing to reconnect and check on his well-being remains. Healing slowly from the past, you carry the weight of trauma, striving for a brighter future filled with hope and healing.

Years passed, hope dwindling. Maybe your friendship with Arlo was truly over. Then, a strange turn of events: after helping an elderly lady, gifts started appearing in your mailbox—jewels, makeup, designer bags, and cash. It seemed absurd, especially since the lady was wealthy. A letter addressed to you accompanied the gifts, but you never wore any of them, unsure if it was a mistake.

One early morning, as you headed to check the mailbox, you noticed a guy standing next to it. He wasn't placing anything in the mailbox; rather, he appeared to be waiting for you. Cautious of this stranger, you decided not to approach him, keeping in mind the importance of "stranger danger."

As he stood by the mailbox, he spoke, "I had a hard time finding you. It seems you didn't like the gifts I sent. It's been years since I last saw you, and you look much more mature now."

His words struck a chord, the familiarity in his voice stirring a sense of recognition within you. Could it be?