Chapter 67

• MARK
• Shit, my head.
• The room was unnervingly still, a stark contrast to the chaos erupting in my mind. I found myself in a dimly lit chamber, an oppressive silence pressing down on me. The walls, painted in a ghostly white, seemed to close in, casting long shadows that danced ominously in the faint light. The air was heavy, thick with a metallic tang that prickled the back of my throat. The source of this unsettling aura lay in the centre of the room: a large, white bed, its sheets drenched in a dark, crimson stain that seemed to spread and pulse like a living thing.