Jane sat on her veranda, the cool night air gently caressing her face. The sky above was adorned with countless stars, their twinkling brilliance a stark contrast to the darkness that enveloped her soul. She cradled her coffee mug in her hands, the warmth seeping through her fingertips, but it failed to penetrate the icy numbness that consumed her. As she gazed up at the vast expanse of the universe, her eyes brimmed with a solemn emptiness. The stars seemed to flicker with a mocking taunt, their distant glow a painful reminder of the unreachable happiness that once danced within her grasp. She longed for the solace they promised, but their beauty only served to accentuate the void within.

Whispering into the night, her voice barely audible, she uttered the words she had held captive within her for far too long. "I'm sorry," she murmured, the syllables dissolving into the air like a fragile breath of regret. The weight of her remorse hung heavy in the stillness, clinging to her fragile frame like an unforgiving shroud.

With a final sigh, Jane reluctantly tore her gaze away from the stars, their distant luminescence fading as she set her coffee mug aside. The bitter taste of regret lingered on her tongue, mirroring the bitterness that had seeped into her very being. She rose from the veranda, her steps heavy with the burden of her existence, and made her way toward her room.

Inside, the darkness embraced her, wrapping around her like a suffocating blanket. She moved through the room with mechanical precision, her movements devoid of purpose or life. The flickering glow of a solitary lamp cast eerie shadows on the walls, amplifying the haunting stillness that permeated the air.

She reached out and turned off the lights, plunging the room into complete darkness. The absence of illumination mirrored the void that consumed her heart, a reflection of the hollowness that had settled deep within her. The silence that followed was deafening, a cruel reminder of the desolation that had become her existence.

Weary and despondent, Jane lay down on her bed, her body sinking into the mattress as if it were a grave. The weight of her sorrow pressed down upon her chest, suffocating the last remnants of hope that clung desperately to her spirit. Sleep offered respite, if only temporary, from the pain that thrived within her veins.

As her eyelids closed, the darkness behind them melded with the darkness that surrounded her, merging into an indistinguishable sea of nothingness. She surrendered herself to the abyss, surrendering to the numbness that had consumed her soul. In the depths of her slumber, she found solace, if only for a few fleeting moments, from the torment that plagued her waking hours.

Jane was dead inside, her once vibrant spirit extinguished, leaving nothing but a hollow shell in its wake. And as the night carried on, the stars continued to twinkle, oblivious of the pain that clawed at her heart.

Her eyes snapped open and for a brief moment, she felt nothing but fear when the same narrow and empty street lined with cobbled stones appeared before her. A sigh escaped her lips. She knew it was time to take a step forward but she feared what lay await on the end of the street. But it was time, wasn't it? She thought to herself.

She threw a final glance at the door behind her and took her first step toward the desolate street. As she made her way in, the sound of hooting owls and billowing wind met her. The cobbled stones under her feet broke as she stepped on them, they were as fragile as that who awaited her in the room at the end of the street.

Five minutes in, the dark, narrow street turned narrower, her body almost failing to fit through it. But Jane persevered. She needed to do this now.

Ten minutes in, the sound of the owls turned into children's laughter. The chime of the billowing wind was replaced by the sound of cicadas. A radio playing an old song was suddenly interrupted by a broadcaster who said, DZRH, kapisanan ng mga broadcasters ng Pilipinas, had her glancing to her left. A smile immediately replaced the solemness painted upon her face. It had been years since she last heard those words. It brought her joy but also pain.

Twenty minutes in and the darkness she had gotten used to was swallowed by a blinding light. The tight passage she was trekking broadened. The cobbled stones under her feet turned into a dirt road. The walls that surrounded the street melted, replaced by overgrown Melina trees. Their protruding roots from the earth were covered by saucer grass and perennials. Birds perched on the branches of the trees, their nests filled with chirping babies, eagerly awaiting their mother's return.

Jane chuckled as she continued to move forward. She glanced from side to side and wondered, would the birds ever know that they would one day lose everything? Would the trees that surrounded her ever resent how their cut down and turned into lumber? Would the dirt road beneath her feet ever rejoice at becoming a pavement?

She was deep in thought when an old man with a worn-out cart being pulled by a carabao passed by her. "Haven't seen you in a while," the old man chipped. Jane looked at him with solemn eyes, "Yes, it's been a while," she replied. She expected the man and his cart to continue passing by her but he stopped instead and stared at her. His face slowly turned sour and then he clicked his tongue. "You lot come here once in a while to fix things. But never have I seen anyone as ugly as you," he scolded.

Jane frowned and asked, "What do you mean?" The man did not respond. He only shook his head, eying her with contempt, and then urged his beast to resume pulling the cart. Jane watched mutely as he disappeared between two Melina trees and she couldn't help but wonder, how could he have known?

It took her a minute to gather her bearings and resume her walk. Fifteen minutes later she found herself in front of a small nippa hut house. The door was as she had left it years ago. A rusty padlock hung from a broken door lock. A chair with a broken leg covered with dirt sat opposite the door. Below it was a small cup filled with wild cherries which in their town was called aratelis. She smiled, bent down, and picked up one. She popped it in he mouth and the fruit's sweetness instantly gifted her a flash of euphoric memories. They were as sweet as the cherry in her mouth. But unlike the fruit, the memories left a bitter taste as they dissolved.

She took a deep breath after swallowing the fruit. Then her eyes strained on the door before her. If one would ask her, was she certain about her decision? The answer would be yes. Was she okay with it? The answer was no. Was it the right thing to do? Perhaps. And that was all Jane could come up with as she slowly pushed the wooden door open. The hinges creaked as it slowly gave way. Instantly, the brightness that surrounded her was swallowed by impenetrable darkness and she found herself staring at something that made her heart skip a beat. She had to do this. She had to.

She silently entered the room and saw the child seated at the table, back facing the door and bathed in dim light. She wore a simple yellow dress with puffed sleeves. Her feet were bare and dangling at the side of the table. Her face was upturned, eyes probably staring at the ceiling. She held a pen in her right hand and a paper was held by her left. Even with her back turned to Jane, she was still a picture of innocence and hope.

Jane frowned. She need not see her face nor feel anything for her.

The child seemed oblivious to her arrival, so Jane moved forward with slow, measured strides. But as she neared the table, the child jumped off and faced her.

Jane leapt back upon seeing the child's face.

The eyes that once brimmed with the sparkling essence of innocence and boundless hope, the very eyes that Jane feared but still yearned to behold, were tragically absent. No longer was there solace in their gentle gaze. And as if cruelly snatched away by some malevolent force, the mouth that once breathed out words of encouragement and optimism had vanished, leaving a void of silence in its wake.

What stood before Jane now was a haunting embodiment of deprivation—a faceless child, stripped of the very features that had once defined her humanity. The tender curves that once cradled her senses were now replaced by roughened calluses and disfiguring scars. In the absence of a mouth, nose, and eyes, the child's visage became a chilling tableau of desolation, a stark testament to the depths of despair that can consume an innocent soul.

"Why?"

The words echoed inside the room. It was thunderous in tone which forced Jane on her knees and to cover her ears.

"Why?"

The question was thrown again and was accompanied by a gush of wind, scented with some putrid.

Jane screamed in agony as the word continued to penetrate her ears, over and over again. "Stop it!" Jane managed to yell amidst the assault.

"Why, Jane. Why?"

This time, the words were said in a near whisper. Jane looked up. The child was still void of mouth. But Jane knew that in this realm, nothing was impossible. It was perhaps the child's mind finding a mouth somewhere in the crevices of the walls that allowed her to talk.

"I had nothing to do with this," Jane murmured as she got up from the floor.

"Then why do I look like this? Why?" The child asked again.

Jane shook her head. "I don't know."

The child did not respond. She instead returned to the table and sat there again, feet dangling in the air. "Have you seen the walls? I've been busy," the child exclaimed. Her voice held excitement despite her current state and Jane couldn't help but wonder if she'd succeed in what she came there to do.

The child continued to blabber about her new stories and how Jane would probably love them. She spoke of characters filled with torment, of night owls and tight spaces. She giggled innocently about death and blood and how she had written a number of stories that needed Jane's approval.

Jane found the interaction irritating. She would have preferred not to say a word to the child, fearing the child's happiness would change her mind.

"Look at them, aren't you proud? Aren't you happy?" The child questioned as she pointed to the wall that faced both her and Jane. Jane stared at the wall. There were countless words on them. Some were in bold, some formed sentences, others incomplete, while a number of them were written closely to each other forming paragraphs.

Tears immediately blurred Jane's vision. She walked toward the wall and laid a hand on it. Some of the words were not only written but etched upon the wall.

"My pen ran out of ink. I don't know how it could, but it did," the child murmured from behind Jane. "Do you know why?" The child added.

Jane didn't respond. She had an inkling as to why, but the child need not learn about it.

"Anyway, I've been waiting for your return. How are you? How are things? I haven't seen you here since the day you broke the lock. But I know that you've been happy. I'm still elated, Jane," the child chirped.

Jane didn't know how to respond. Yes, she had been happy. But...

"I never thanked you properly, Jane. I've prepared something for you. I started working on it when you broke the lock and said that I was free to be with you again. Would you like to see it?"

Jane was still facing the wall, back turned to the child. She debated whether facing this faceless child was a good idea, but perhaps, she could humor her for a while. Just for a while. So she turned on her heels and faced the child. The grotesque image before her had her frowning and diverting her gaze on the floor.

Soon, she heard a commotion coming from the child's position, but she dared not look up. Seconds ticked by and before Jane could find the courage to look up, she felt the child beside her, face pressed unto the side of her face. "Open the drawer, Jane," the child whispered in her ear.

Jane felt a breath touch her cheek. Believing that the child had regained her missing parts, she turned her face toward her. Calloused and scarred skin that bore a resemblance to a healed severely burned victim greeted her, a mere inch from her face. Jane expected to behold a mouth, one which would explain the breath that ghosted her cheek, but she was wrong. She immediately backed away from the child.

"What's wrong, Jane? You seem on edge." The child asked, with her faceless head tilted to her left.

Jane couldn't tell what emotions ran stronger, fear, doubt, or guilt as she stared at the grotesque image before her. But it felt funny to even have those emotions. Given she came here to do something unforgivable.

"Jane," the child prodded.

"It's nothing. It's nothing, Jane replied as she crawled further from the child and toward the table. She reached for the drawer the child spoke about, and upon pulling it open, a strong wind permeated from it, and Jane found herself thrust backwards. Her back hit the wall and she fell on the floor screaming in agony. Her body twisted and curled into a ball. The pain was unbearable which had her shutting her eyes and throwing out curses for the drawer.

"Jane, it's alright. This is my gift to you," she heard the child chirp. Jane had enough, she couldn't stay here any longer, so she calmed herself and then slowly opened her eyes, ready to execute her plan. But what greeted her was something she couldn't have envisioned. She was no longer inside the dimly lit room.

Jane was inside a living room. A very familiar living room. The walls were made of wood and woven coconut leaves. The floor was red in hue. There were spider cracks in them. The scent of fried rice and coffee filled her senses. She heard the melancholic radio broadcaster reading a love story permeating from the black radio near her.

Tears streamed their way out of Jane's eyes. She didn't have to see this. She didn't need this. She glanced to her side where she knew the child was since she managed to get a glimpse of her silhouette in the side of her peripheral.

"How dare you," Jane screamed as she turned her head to face the child. "How dare you bring me here!" She reiterated, voice filled with contempt and pain.

The faceless child stepped back and seemed to panic. Her head hysterically turned to the left and then to the right. Her small body shook. Her bony hands trembled. "I-I thought you'd love this, Jane. I..."

"Shut up! Take us back," Jane commanded.

In an instant, the place was sucked away and they were back in the dimlit room. Jane Immediately rose from the floor. She said nothing, as she stomped toward the child. She grabbed the collar of the child's dress, raised her in the air, and threw her against a wall. Jane heard bones break, but she showed no sign of remorse or shock. She walked toward where the child had fallen, picked her up again, and once more threw her against a wall. An agonizing scream escaped the child's mouth accompanied by blood that spurted from her throat.

"Why?"

Jane heard the words but she refused or perhaps urged herself not to respond. She instead, closed the gap between her and the child again and once more picked her up by her dress collar. This time, she raised the child higher in the air and threw her against the table. The wooden furniture broke as the child's body collided with it. A harrowing cry erupted from somewhere. Then it was followed by sobs and hick-ups.

Anyone with a conscience would have had their heart bleeding at the gut-wrecking scene. The child was bleeding, sprawled on the floor. She was covered with wood chips and huge chunks of wood from the broken table. But Jane seemed unaffected. She decided to make her way toward the child again.

However, a painful-sounding croak emitted from the walls stopped her mid-action as she fell to a stop near the little girl, body bent, attempting to reach for her dress collar again.

"Jane, stop. Please stop. Look at her. Look at her!" The voice boomed like thunder inside the room. It was enough to steel Jane.

"Look at her, Jane. Stop it! You're hurting her!" The voice scolded.

Jane's eyes widened and tears started to fall from her tired black globes. "I have to do this," she murmured.

"No, Jane. You don't."

"I have to. It's the only way," Jane replied. She looked around and then repeated the words, throwing them toward one wall and the next.

"Then talk to her. Don't do this," the voice replied.

Jane scowled at the walls. "Stop intervening. You could have intervened years ago, but you didn't! You left me! You took me for granted! I prayed to you. I begged you, but you never answered. You never answered!"

"H-He did, Jane. It was her who never listened," the faceless child murmured as her bleeding and broken finger pointed toward the wall behind Jane.

Jane's face contorted as her tumultuous emotions continued to surge within her. She turned to look behind her. Her frown deepened. A door, which had been absent moments ago, now stood before her.

In her confusion, she redirected her attention to the faceless child lying on the floor again. The child remained in a state of vulnerability, blood seeping from her wounds. Her collarbone jutted out from a torn patch of skin. Her right leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, revealing the exposed kneecaps and abrasions on the skin. Moreover, her upper right hand bore the evidence of damage, as her torn skin dangled from it, exposing raw muscles beneath.

Jane felt her heart, break. She wanted to scoop her up and tell her how sorry she was, but she wouldn't. She had accepted doing this. She made the decision. But the door...

"It was her, Jane. And she needs us."

Confused, Jane walked toward the door and then grabbed the door knob. It felt cold and something inside Jane warned her that she shouldn't open the door. Something in her determined that she had locked this door. However, she had decided to severe everything, hadn't she? If the door held something she must destroy too, then she must pry it open.

"Are you sure?"

Jane glanced back at the child. What a strong will the child possessed. Even with her, badly broken, her unyielding will managed to find a voice and let her thoughts be known.

But Jane had always known that. She knew how tough this child was. This little girl was unbreakable. Oh, yes, she knew. How could she not?

"Why shouldn't I be?" Jane replied.

"I don't know, but are you truly ready to step inside that door?"

Jane felt her heart skip a beat. That warning rang in her ear again. "Why, what lies behind the door?"

The child grunted before she said, "Who she is, shouldn't you know?"

"Who lies behind the door," Jane reiterated.

"See for yourself," the child responded.

Jane's heart pounded in her chest as she once more grabbed the door knob, a sense of apprehension coursing through her veins. With a trembling hand, she pushed it open, revealing a room engulfed in darkness. A stale, putrid stench immediately assaulted her senses, causing her to recoil. She hastily clamped a hand over her nose, desperately trying to fend off the nauseating scent of rotting flesh that seemed to permeate the air.

Squinting her eyes against the dim light, Jane stepped cautiously into the room, her gaze scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. As her sight adjusted to the darkness, her eyes widened like saucers, horrified by the grotesque sight before her.

Against one of the decaying walls, a girl, perhaps in her middle teens, stood in a macabre display.
The girl's face, a canvas of terror, was obscured by a mask of crimson. Thick rivulets of blood cascaded down her contorted features, mingling with dirt and grime to create a macabre tapestry. Strands of matted, disheveled hair clung desperately to her scalp, interwoven with twigs, debris, and dried blood.

Her eyes were dull and lifeless. She stared vacantly ahead, but for reasons Jane couldn't phantom, the teen's head suddenly twitched and was instantly angled toward her direction. It seemed like the teen was trying to recognize who Jane was and then, she smiled. Bloody gums appeared amid cracked, swollen lips. "Jane," the broken teen murmured.

Slowly, the teen moved forward.

With each agonizing step, her disjointed limbs seemed to writhe in torment, as if her very bones rebelled against their shattered and dislocated state. Her skin, a grotesque tableau of horror, appeared as though it had been subjected to the searing touch of an inferno. Melted flesh clung in tattered shreds, revealing raw, oozing wounds that festered with the stench of decay. The putrid odor, a sickly blend of charred flesh and rotting matter gripped the air tighter, assaulting Jane's senses with its malevolent presence.

Every twitch, every movement of the teen's broken and misaligned body elicited a symphony of agony that seemed to echo through the very fabric of Jane's soul. The grotesque contortions of the teen's limbs, so far removed from their natural alignment, were a testament to the indescribable torment she had endured, as if she had been crushed by an unseen force that reveled in her suffering.

The sight was harrowing. Jane wanted to step out and close the door, but her eyes were somehow drawn to the ghastly sight of skin peeling off, exposing raw muscles beneath. Muscles that seemed all too familiar.

This thing was a wretched existence meant to be trapped within the confines of this desolate room. That was clear to see.

A mix of horror and sympathy gripped Jane's soul, her mind struggling to process the gruesome tableau before her. Questions swirled in her mind like a maelstrom - who was this girl? She seemed familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Jane knew everything she needed to know about this place including every existence inside it. Was this thing an anomaly? Maybe the child knows who this thing is, Jane thought to herself as the broken bloody teen fell on the floor.

Still within the confines of the room, Jane yelled, "Who is she?"

"The one who came after me and before you. The in-between" answered the faceless child.

Jane's face contorted in sheer horror as shock coursed through her veins like a jolt of electricity. Her eyes widened, almost bulging out of their sockets, as she threw another glance at the grotesque figure sprawled on the floor. A mixture of revulsion and disbelief washed over her, leaving her trembling to her core.

In a desperate attempt to deny the horrifying truth, Jane vigorously shook her head. A guttural scream escaped her lips, a primal sound of denial and anguish that echoed through the room. Her voice cracked with a sense of desperation as she vehemently protested, "No! I have seen The in between, and that thing," she pointed a trembling finger at the crawling, bloody existence, "is not her!"

Yet, her words were swiftly countered by the faceless child, who shook her head in sorrowful confirmation. The child's haunting gesture, devoid of a visage, only intensified Jane's torment. The magnitude of The in-between's deterioration hit her like a thunderbolt, shattering what little hope and light she had left.

As her emotions became entangled in a chaotic whirlwind, Jane's pained expression deepened, etching lines of sorrow and self-loathing across her face. Her brows furrowed, knitting together in a desperate search for answers that seemed forever out of reach. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as they cascaded down her cheeks, mingling with the anguish etched on her features.

Fingers trembling uncontrollably, Jane brought a hand to her mouth, as if trying to stifle the heart-wrenching sobs that threatened to escape. Her body convulsed with the weight of her grief, each tremor a testament to the turmoil ravaging her soul. The agony in her eyes mirrored the battle raging within her, torn between the undeniable truth and the fervent wish for it to be untrue.

However, a small devilish voice within the recesses of her mind whispered, "Wasn't this what you wanted? Wasn't this what you came here to do? Rejoice."

Jane closed her eyes, her mind immersed in a turbulent sea of conflicting thoughts and emotions. The weight of her decision bore down on her shoulders, threatening to crush her spirit. She knew that the path she had chosen was a difficult one, but it was necessary to forge ahead and find a way to move on.

Months ago, Jane grappled with the concept of letting go, of leaving a part of herself behind. It felt like tearing away a vital piece of her identity, a painful sacrifice that demanded strength and resilience. But she also understood that sometimes, in order to heal, we must shed the layers of our past, even if it means losing a part of who we once were.

As she opened her eyes, her gaze fell upon the faceless child, a haunting reminder of her own struggles and pain. A surge of frustration and anger welled up within her, and she pushed the child away, causing them to stumble and fall to the floor. The child, silent and motionless, lay before her.

Kneeling beside the fallen figure, Jane's heart wrenched with a mixture of sorrow and determination. The child's faceless visage mirrored her own inner turmoil, a reflection of the emptiness she had fought within herself. Trembling, she whispered, "I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore."

In an instant, Jane found herself running for the door, but before she could reach it, her leg was grabbed by the crawling grotesque figure which by then had made its way out of her confines and into the faceless child's room.

She yanked her feet but the bloody figure refused to let go. Jane gazed with a bleeding heart at the broken existence. In this abomination, there still lingered an eerie sense of resilience, a spirit that refused to succumb entirely to the horrors inflicted upon her. Each labored breath she took, each rasping gasp for survival, spoke volumes about the indomitable strength that resided within her shattered form.

Jane couldn't help but feel proud of her. This, her, The in-between was the one who lived through the horror. She was gifted with nothing but suffering and heartache. She was the one who fought the battles of life's inferno. The only dream this one knew was to find hope. She suffered the most. She was beaten the most. She was broken the most. Yet here she was, still alive and still moving, still fighting. How could she still have any fight left in her? Jane wondered.

"Help, me," the bloody teen murmured as she clung to Jane's feet with everything she got.

Jane bit her lips and struggled desperately against bending down and cradling the teen. Her decision was made. It was for the best.

Jane yanked her feet harder and the thing beneath her finally let go.

"Help me," she begged again.

Jane hardened her heart. There were two more souls out there in the real world that needed her. They needed her more than The in-between or the faceless child. "You shouldn't have fought so hard, you know. Why did you have to fight until there was nothing left to give? Why did you let yourself break and break and break again until you're too broken to stand? I can't help you, you must die with the other," Jane replied. She rushed toward the door, yanked it open, and shut it behind her.

Leaning against the door, she felt the weight of her decision pressing upon her. The air was heavy with the scent of musty wood and unspoken regrets. From within the depths of the room, a haunting cry pierced through the cracks of the door, echoing with the pain of a thousand broken promises. It was the cry of the faceless child.

"Why had you returned and gave me hope months ago? Why did you open the door only to shut us out once more? Why!? You promised to fulfill my dream. You vowed to heal her!"

The words sent shivers down Jane's spine, settling deep within her soul. They were words that tore at her heart, reminding her of the countless times she had failed this poor, innocent dreamer and that broken, bloodied teen. She closed her eyes, hoping to shut out the anguished wails, but they reverberated within her mind, impossible to escape.

As the cries intensified, a low growl emerged, blending with the symphony of despair. It was the voice of The in-between, her wounded spirit seeking solace. Then the door started to rattle.

The pounding against it reverberated through Jane's body, each thud a reminder of the pain she had inflicted upon those two, upon herself.

Tears streamed down Jane's face, her anguished sobs joining the chorus of anguish. Her heart ached with the weight of her decision, the burden of bearing the consequences of her choices. The faceless child's voice cut through the chaos once more, filled with both desperation and accusation.

"Are you abandoning us again?" the voice cried out, its timbre laced with agony. The words struck Jane like a dagger to the chest, a reminder of her past failures and her struggle to find redemption.

With a trembling voice, Jane mustered all the strength she could find within herself and whispered, "No." Her answer was filled with pain, a raw admission of the truth. "I'm killing you."

The words hung heavily in the air, their meaning echoing in the silence. It was a painful truth, a sacrifice born out of love and desperation. Jane knew that by severing a part of herself, relinquishing the ties that bound her to a harrowing past, she would finally be free to do what she must.

A responsibility of the highest magnitude awaited her on the other side. Two innocent souls that she had brought into this world. Two sets of eyes that look upon her for guidance and attention. Two sets of arms that needed her utmost affection. Two futures that needed assurance. In order to give them that, she must stop healing ghosts and chasing dreams, long forgotten. She was running out of time. And time was what the two behind the door needed. She must deprive them, her. She must. She must.

As the cries and pounding continued, Jane clutched her chest, feeling as though her heart might burst. She had made her choice, but it tore at her soul. The weight settled upon her shoulders, a heavy burden she would carry forever and might perhaps break her one day. But what's done was done.

It had to be done.

Amid the onslaught of pain, two objects suddenly materialized near the broken foot of the chair beside her. It was as if the universe itself conspired to deliver a devastating blow to her already fragile state or perhaps a helping hand to solidify her resolve. On the right side, a padlock glinted, its metallic surface reflecting her own shattered reflection. Beside it, lay a small key, so insignificant in size, yet carrying the weight of an immeasurable burden. On the left side, a pen and a piece of paper lay abandoned, filled with monologues and stories that she and her younger self had created months ago.

Jane's heart cracked within her chest, the pieces falling haphazardly like shards of broken glass. She felt her soul shatter, splintering into a thousand irreparable fragments. The sight before her was a cruel reminder that she had truly made up her mind.

Terrified and breaking inside, Jane's trembling hands reached out to pick up the padlock. As her fingers closed around its cold, unforgiving surface, she could almost feel the weight of her own despair being locked away. With each click of the lock, her hope dwindled, suffocated by the finality of her actions. The sound echoed through her empty soul, a solemn requiem for the pieces of her she must now kill.

The pen, once a vessel of her innermost thoughts and emotions, now held no purpose but to witness the destruction of her world. Jane grasped it with trembling hands, her fingers tightening around its delicate frame. In a surge of anger and despair, she snapped the pen mercilessly, the sound tearing through the silence like a scream of agony.

With tears streaming down her face, Jane turned her attention to the piece of paper. As she tore at its fragile surface, the screams of her wounded heart erupted on the other side of the door. Each rip sent waves of pain through her as if it were her own flesh being torn apart. The paper bled under her touch, its fibers soaking up the anguish that seemed to seep from her very being.

At that moment, Jane realized that her actions had irreversible consequences. The door before her started to morph into something else. Wood became bricks and the lock disappeared. A painful slap on her face that solidified the fact that she would never be able to open this door again, even if she one day decided that she finally had the time and wanted to reunite with them. It became a barrier, a physical representation of the chasm that now separated her from everything that held her back but also kept her sanity alive. Her heart, once whole, now lay shattered at her feet, the pieces too scattered to ever be reassembled.

As the last remnants of the paper fell to the ground, Jane sank to her knees, her sobs echoing through the desolate space. She was left with nothing but the haunting echoes of devastation that had or would ultimately consume her soul.

With a final, agonizing sob, Jane pushed herself away from the brick door. Her hand lingered for a moment, fingertips grazing the barricade before she turned and ran away. The cries faded into the distance as Jane made her way back toward the narrow cobbled path. Her heart turned to ashes as she opened the main door to this realm.

Before she stepped back into life, she threw a final glance at the dark street with its cobbled path. She smiled a sad smile and hoped that she never find herself in this realm again. But deep down, Jane knew she would long for it. They were pieces of her, fragments of who she once was. She would always long to heal them, fulfill their dreams, and redeem herself in their eyes.

But she couldn't, not Now, and what truly hurts the most, not even Then.