<b>The memory bled into something else, its edges soft and shifting, like ink dissolving in water. Irene blinked, disoriented, her surroundings coming into focus through a hazy veil. The air was thick with the scent of aged wood and something faintly floral—familiar yet distant, like a whisper from the past. She knew this place before her mind even had to catch up. The high, arched ceilings loomed overhead, their dark wooden beams stretching like the ribs of some ancient beast. Intricate stone archways framed the room, leading to a terrace bathed in a golden, dreamlike glow, a warmth that felt out of place against the icy dread seeping into her bones. A massive, wrought-iron chandelier hung above her, its presence heavy, its crystals refracting light in strange, fragmented patterns. The deep black velvet sofas sat untouched, eerily pristine, as if frozen in time.</b>


    <b>Then, a sinking sensation twisted in her stomach—something was wrong. Everything felt too big. Too vast. Her heart pounded as she forced herself to move, to look—to confirm the gnawing suspicion creeping up her spine. She turned toward the grand mirror across the hall, and the reflection that stared back at her made her breath hitch. A child. Small hands. Wide, terrified eyes. She was eight years old again.</b>


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    <b>No. No, not this memory. Anything but this one.</b>


    <b>Dread clawed at her chest, suffocating, a pressure so overwhelming it made her feel like she might collapse under it. The last memory had hurt in a different way—it had made her ache for Phoebe, for the warmth and love she had lost. But this? This was something else entirely. This memory was rot beneath the floorboards, a sickness she could never purge.</b>


    <b>And then it began.</b>


    <b>A loud noise. A crash. The walls seemed to tighten around her as the echo of raised voices filled the space, sharp as shattered glass. The arguments had started. The air turned heavy, oppressive, pressing against her like unseen hands. Her pulse thrummed like a war drum. She didn’t need to turn the corner to know what came next.</b>


    <b>She wanted to wake up. Wanted to claw her way out of this nightmare before it swallowed her whole. But she couldn’t.</b>


    <b>The memory had already taken hold</b>