NOT ONCE, NOT TWICE, BUT FOREVER

Madness is like a whisper at first.

Soft. Harmless. Almost comforting.

But the longer you listen, the louder it becomes.

Until it’s screaming—and there’s no turning it off.

Too late for me.

It’s already inside.



They said I was unstable. Delusional.

That I imagined the blood. The mirrors. The things crawling behind the walls.

But I know what I saw.

They put me in here to silence me. To “treat” me.

But this place—this asylum—it’s the real madness.

The hallways shift. The clocks tick backward. And the patients… they aren't human anymore.

What is this place?

...and who was I before I forgot?