The path to the door was a gauntlet, the gatekeepers its sentinels.

They stood firm, their postures rigid with the authority vested in them.

Each man was a bastion of discipline, eyes sharp and unwavering as they scanned the horizon for any sign of intrusion.

"Stop! Who are you? And what do you want?"

The challenge was issued by one, his uniform crisp, the stick in his hand an extension of the barriers he was sworn to uphold.

But what use was that stick against my resolve?

It was but a twig against the force of a storm.

I felt the fury and determination rising within me, a tempest that no mere stick could deter.

My heart pounded with the rhythm of a thousand drums, each beat echoing the unyielding will that drove me forward.

"I want to go inside," I declared, my voice a steady drumbeat against their wall of questions.

The words hung in the air, a bold assertion that demanded recognition.

The other guard scrutinized me, his eyes traveling the length of my tattered attire with a disdain that was almost palpable.

His gaze lingered on the dirt-streaked fabric, the worn shoes, the signs of hardship etched into my appearance.

"It is not a place where someone like you can go in as you wish," he sneered, his words laced with the poison of judgment.

Each syllable dripped with derision, a verbal dagger meant to cut deep.

His tone, that condescending symphony of contempt, struck a chord within me.

I felt a surge of anger, a fierce indignation that burned hotter with every second.

For some reason, I didn't like his tone and way of speaking.

The disdain in his voice was a needle that pricked at my patience.

"Is it so?" I questioned, my voice steady but laced with disbelief.

The incredulity in my tone cut through the air, challenging the arrogance that dripped from his words.

"Yes. Get lost now," he spat out, his hands flailing dismissively, as if swatting away my very presence.

His gesture was an insult, a blatant disregard for my resolve.

"Haa!"

A heavy sigh escaped me, a release of pent-up frustration and sorrow.

The sound was a mournful whisper in the charged silence, echoing my internal conflict.

Well, I guess there's no other way.

"It leaves me no choice then," I murmured, resignation lacing my words.

The weight of inevitability hung heavily in the air, a prelude to the storm that was about to break.

I stepped forward, my movements deliberate and calm, each step a testament to the strength of my resolve.

The guard's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.

He could sense the shift in the atmosphere, the quiet intensity that emanated from me.

"What are you trying to do?" He asked.

But that was all he could do.

With a slow, deliberate motion, I extended my hand.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

A soft glow emanated from my palm, growing in intensity until it coalesced into a shimmering blue blade, its edge as cold as the resolve settling in my heart.

The light pulsed with a quiet power, casting eerie reflections on the walls and the startled faces of the gatekeepers.

"What?" The gatekeepers' eyes widened in shock, their complacency shattered by the unexpected turn of events.

Their bravado melted away, replaced by a mix of fear and disbelief.

They scrambled, their movements clumsy in their haste, but I was already steps ahead, my focus unwavering.

With a mere flick of my wrist, the knife danced through the air, an extension of my will, its path unerring.

The blade cut through the space between us with a deadly grace, slicing through the air like a whisper of doom.

The guards had no time to react, their fear freezing them in place.

I commanded it to slit their throats effortlessly, the blade obeying with a precision that was both beautiful and terrible.

The first guard’s eyes widened in a final moment of realization before the blue edge kissed his neck.

The motion was swift, almost merciful in its efficiency, as his life spilled out in a crimson arc, painting the air with his last breath.

The second guard's attempt to raise his stick was futile, his movements slow and uncoordinated compared to the blade’s lethal dance.

The knife found its mark with a cold inevitability, gliding across his throat with the same unerring accuracy.

His hands flew to his neck, a vain attempt to stem the tide of his own life slipping away.

Their bodies crumpled to the ground, the light fading from their eyes as the blue blade returned to my hand, its glow slowly dimming.

"You!!" One of the remaining gaurds, lunged towards me, desperation fueling his attack.

His eyes were wild with fear, his movements driven by a primal urge to survive.

But it was futile.

My telekinetic barrier sprang up, an invisible wall of force, impenetrable and serene.

The energy shimmered faintly, a barely perceptible distortion in the air that halted his advance with brutal efficiency.

His fists pounded uselessly against the barrier, each blow a testament to his despair.

The shimmering blue blade reappeared in my hand, summoned by a mere thought.

With a swift, precise motion, it cut through the air and found its mark.

The guard’s expression shifted from fury to shock, his eyes widening as the blade delivered its lethal kiss.

He crumpled to the ground, joining his fallen comrades in silent testimony to my resolve.

As the last of them fell, a quiet settled over the scene, the only sound the faint hum of the blade before it faded into nothingness.

"Well, that was easy," I whispered to myself, the words echoing in the stillness.

It was a hollow victory, the ease of their defeat underscoring the gravity of the path I had chosen.

I paused, taking a moment to breathe deeply, to center myself amidst the remnants of chaos.

The door loomed before me, a portal to the unknown, to the destiny I was determined to claim.

I placed my hand on the cool surface, feeling the pulse of my own heartbeat in my fingertips.

Stepping through the doorway, I left the chaos of the outside world behind, stepping into a realm where my purpose awaited.

The garden unfolded before me, a serene oasis that belied the turmoil in my heart.

Sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves, casting dappled shadows on the path that wound through beds of vibrant flowers and neatly trimmed hedges.

The fragrance of blooming roses and jasmine filled the air, a stark contrast to the cold resolve that gripped my soul.

I moved through it, my gaze sweeping over the main door that stood as a gateway to memories I wished to forget.

Its presence was a haunting reminder of a past I had buried deep within me.

Laughter and shouts of joy echoed around me, piercing the stillness like shards of glass.

Children, innocent and carefree, played in the garden, their games a dance of pure delight.

Their laughter was a melody of pure, untainted joy, an anthem to the innocence I had lost.

Staff members mingled among them, their guidance subtle yet firm, shaping these young minds under the guise of play.

Their smiles were warm, their touches gentle, but to me, it was all a façade, masking the darkness that lurked within these walls.

I was a shadow among them, unseen and unheard.

I wrapped the fabric of space tightly around me, my form flickering from place to place with each silent step.

Teleportation was my cloak, my shield against prying eyes as I ascended the staircase.

I moved like a ghost, my presence felt only as a whisper of displaced air.

Each step upwards was a step back in time, to a past fraught with pain and darkness.

The memories clawed at my mind, vivid and unrelenting.

The harsh words, the stinging blows, the nights spent in fear and loneliness—they all surged back, a torrent of agony that threatened to drown me.

The director's office loomed at the top, a sanctum of secrets and suffering.

The door stood closed, a silent sentinel guarding the horrors within.

My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing the anger and sorrow that churned within me.

The emotions were a tempest, a storm that had been brewing for years, now threatening to break free.

As I stood before the door, the maelstrom of emotions surged within me.

Anger burned hot and fierce, a fire that demanded retribution.

A thirst for justice gnawed at my soul, a relentless hunger that could only be sated by confronting the source of my pain.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead.

The door was just a barrier, a final obstacle between me and the past I needed to face.

The storm within me raged on, but I was ready.

Memories of experiments, of agony endured, flooded back with relentless force.

The cold, sterile rooms, the sharp bite of needles, the searing pain that coursed through my veins—all vivid, all consuming.

I had been a pawn in their games, a subject to their whims, stripped of my humanity and reduced to a mere number.

Now, it was time for reckoning.

I wanted to make him feel the depth of my pain, to repay every moment of suffering tenfold.

With a surge of pent-up fury, I propelled my foot forward, the door giving way with a thunderous crash.

The wood splintered under the force, the sound reverberating through the silent halls like a clap of thunder.

The director and his assistant, ensconced in their world of order and control, looked up, startled by the intrusion.

Papers fluttered to the floor, caught in the sudden gust of chaos.

I had braced myself for immediate conflict, for the director to recognize me and unleash his defenses.

My heart pounded in anticipation, adrenaline coursing through my veins, ready for the battle I had been preparing for.

But the reality was a blow more disorienting than any attack—a blank stare of non-recognition.

"Who are you?" he inquired, his voice devoid of recognition, as if I were a stranger, not the product of his cruel experiments.

His eyes, cold and calculating, betrayed no hint of the torment he had inflicted upon me.

My breath hitched, the fury within me flaring hotter.

The man who had shattered my life, who had turned my existence into a waking nightmare, looked at me as though I were nothing more than a speck of dust on his meticulously organized desk.

The lack of recognition was an insult, a dismissal of the suffering he had wrought.

A cold laugh escaped my lips, bitter and incredulous.

"Don't you remember me?" I challenged, stepping into the room, my presence an undeniable truth he had to acknowledge.

The laugh was a harsh, jagged sound, echoing off the sterile walls and slicing through the tension like a blade.

But there was nothing. No flicker of memory, no dawning horror, nothing but the same indifferent question.

"Who are you?" His eyes remained detached, his posture one of mild annoyance, as if I were merely an inconvenience disrupting his orderly existence.

The audacity of his amnesia was a slap across my face.

How dare he erase me from his memory after casting me into that hell?

How dare he look at me with such vacant eyes, as if I were nothing more than a ghost haunting his pristine office?

"Don't you really remember me?" My voice rose, a crescendo of disbelief and rage, demanding recognition.

Each word was a hammer blow against his indifference, a plea for acknowledgment from the one who had twisted my life into a nightmare.

My hands trembled with the intensity of my emotions, the telekinetic energy swirling around me, a storm barely held in check.

The words hung in the air, a testament to his disregard for the lives he tampered with.