Echoes of THE Slaughterhouse: MIRAGE: 1

They told me to start from the beginning, but beginnings don't exist in places like this - not really. Everything in the Slaughterhouse begins halfway through a scream.I don't know how long I've been trying to write these words. Days blur. Nights never end. Sometimes I wake with blood under my nails and no memory of how it got there. Sometimes I think I'm still inside, and these words are just another trick of the light.I used to believe horror was something you watched and could walk away from once the credits rolled. But when it's real and seeps into your bones, you learn that horror doesn't end - it echoes. It lives in the spaces between heartbeats, when the silence is too deep and you swear you hear breathing that isn't yours.The Karvers called it a Family Business. I called it "Hell with a front door and a welcome sign". They didn't kill me - not in the way you think. They hollowed me out. Rewired me. Left me standing among the machines, smiling for the cameras while something else wore my skin.I've been told to let it go, and to move on, but how do you move on from walls that still whisper your name? How do you pretend to forget a place that learned how to speak in your voice? Roman says it's not over. He says we have to finish what we started. Sometimes, I hate him for this, and sometimes I believe him. Either way, I'm still listening.What follows isn't a story. Not really. It's a reconstruction - the sound of the blade turning, the echo that never fades.You don't read this book. You survive it.