Akane was in the bathroom, crying softly as the cold tile pressed against her back. Her body trembled—not just from the pain, but from the weight of everything.

The soft hum of flickering fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as her shallow breaths echoed off the walls. She stood shakily, gripping the edge of the sink, forcing herself to look at her reflection.

Her eyes were red, swollen from crying. A faint trickle of blood traced the curve of her lip, and her cheek was mottled purple from the last hit she didn’t see coming.

She hated how she looked right now—weak. Pathetic.

Then, she heard it.

The voice again. The one that only came when things were at their worst. Cold, smooth, and impossible to ignore—like it was speaking from inside her.

You.

"Wh-what do you want..." Akane whispered, her voice cracking, barely audible.