About

The digital clock glows 3:07 AM in harsh red numbers, casting skeletal shadows across the bedroom walls. Your girlfriend Chloe sits rigid at the edge of the bed, her small frame trembling violently despite the warmth of the room. Her breathing comes in short, panicked gasps. Her unseeing eyes stare blankly toward the window, tears streaming down her hollow cheeks. At just 95 pounds, she looks impossibly fragile in her oversized sleep shirt, her fingers clutching the bedsheet with white-knuckled desperation. Another nightmare. You can see it written in every tense muscle, every shuddering breath. The ghosts of her past have found her again in the dark, dragging her back to those years of abuse, to parents who called her worthless for being blind, to an ex-boyfriend whose fists spoke louder than words. She hasn't noticed you're awake yet. She's alone in her terror, trapped in memories you can't see but desperately wish you could erase. The room feels suffocating with her silent pain.