I lay in bed while the moonlight entered my room through the curtains, casting weird shapes on my bedroom walls. I lay there, lost in my own thoughts.

The scenes from today filled my mind, and I couldn’t help but smile.

"I am not alone." I thought to myself.

The warmth of today’s memory enveloped me like a soft summer breeze, carrying that nostalgic scent of summer. But as I rested in the soft hands of nostalgia, other memories started to enter my mind. Fragments of my past are blurry and faded, like forgotten photographs. I saw myself as a child, running through fields, laughter echoing in the air. A familiar voice of my mother, telling me to slow down and not to run far away, her voice a soothing melody. I didn’t listen, and before I knew it, I found myself in the forest.

I stood there in the darkness, afraid. Behind a tree, a distant figure was standing, looking at me with its red eyes. I wanted to scream and run away, but it rooted me in place just by looking at me.

"Remember!" it yelled at me. "Remember!!"

"I don’t want to!" I somehow managed to scream back at it, and just like that, it disappeared. I was free.

I turned to the nightstand; a photograph of my mother was supposed to be there, but I couldn’t see it anymore. There was a woman there—a woman I didn’t know.

With a sigh, I closed my eyes, my memories carrying me into dreams. My past was like a labyrinth, but I was ready this time to face it. As sleep’s embrace pulled me under, I embraced the journey, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

In life, you can’t avoid things forever, but for me, avoiding the inevitable has become an art form. I was once again in the darkness, and three scenes kept playing in front of me at the same time on a big screen. On the first one, it was me; on the second one and the third one as well. And I was doing the same thing—eating the victim’s eyes.

The taste, the texture—everything came back to me. The basic routine of Crow’s art. After eating my first three eyes, a question popped up in my head: would I be capable of inflicting pain and suffering myself? Could I start torturing people with him when the time is right, or will I always stand next to him in the shadows, waiting for him to offer me an eye?

And the dice rolled, and our fourth victim was another hitchhiker, just a pawn in The Crow’s game. The car, the road, the darkness outside, the loud engine, father and son—everything is the same, just a different pawn.

"Please, please, please..." The pawn’s voice trembled—once a terrible sound, now not so much. I didn’t like the fact that I didn’t hate it like I used to; it was like I got used to the screams and the pain. Like a swarm of insects, attacking me and my mind. I had to make the words stop.

Without hesitation, I listened to that voice inside me, cutting out the man’s tongue. The silence that followed and the look in the man’s eyes gave me a source of power. I became stronger; his life was in my hands.

I turned to my father. This was my first time feeling something like this, and I didn’t know what to do. His eyes gleamed with pride. That increased the power inside my veins. The whispers from the darkness, my new desires—some parts of us humans we buried deep within us are now back on the surface.

"I am proud of you, son." He encouraged me, and I continued my descent into the abyss. One by one, I dissected the man’s fingers, each agonizing scream increasing my power.

My father joined me; like a sinister orchestrator, he joined my performance. He devoured one of the man’s eyes, something that was supposed to make me sick. This time, instead, I felt hunger within me; it was my turn.

With a slow, deliberate movement, I gouged out the man’s remaining eye. I ate it, each bite throwing away one part of my humanity. I swallowed it down, happy I did it.

I found myself in my father’s embrace, and a realization began to dawn on me. The weight of my actions, the horror of my deeds—I was drowning in them. What have I become? Not only did I help him get his victims, I tortured and killed a man, and I feasted on him, consuming him and making him a part of me.

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Panic emerged; it was difficult to breathe and to face this memory of mine. "Why didn’t I stop?" The question haunted me. And then an even worse question: "Why hadn’t I wanted to stop?"

"Wake up; you still have to finish it." A loud voice cut through my thoughts, my father’s sinister command pulling me back into the memory.

And I was standing there in front of my victim, my father watching, observing me with pride. The abyss was hungry again, and I surrendered to it.

"You really are my son, my own blood," he murmured, sending shivers down my spine.

My hand moved with a scary precision, cutting the man’s throat. The ritual was completed, and the boundaries between man and monster were no more.

"Thank you, father."

The man’s cries were silenced forever. I found myself in the abyss, and the question was: "Am I going to be here forever?"

The memory shattered like glass, the fragments cutting through the fabric of my thoughts. I covered my eyes, trying to protect myself from it. And there he stood, the man I had just tortured, a mere pawn in my father’s sadistic game. His eyes had empty sockets because of the sadistic game he had just endured. My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of this memory crashing down full force upon me.

"Please…." My voice trembled as I spoke. "I know what I did was wrong, and I can’t change the past. But I need you to understand that, just like you, I was a victim, a pawn in all of this, in my father’s game. He was the real monster."

My breath caught in my throat. I saw myself as the monster I had become and as the monster my father had become. Now, face to face with the man I mutilated, I saw the depths of my own darkness. The man’s empty eye sockets looked into my soul, a mirror reflecting the monster inside.

"I never wanted any of this," the man started speaking, his voice quivering. "I didn’t choose to be a part of his sick game. I didn’t choose to lose my eyes or my life."

My chest tightened. The man in front of me was a haunting reminder of what I had done. The path I had walked

"All I want, all I beg for, is forgiveness. For a chance to find peace and escape the nightmare that has consumed me. Please." I begged the man.

"I can’t give you the forgiveness you seek. And I can’t erase the past and the pain you caused."

I nodded. "I understand. I didn’t expect it to be that simple."

The man turned and left; he disappeared in front of my eyes.

My eyes snapped open, and my chest was heavy as I gasped for air. Cold sweat clung to my skin, and my heart raced, wanting to escape from my chest. The room was shrouded in darkness, and the moon’s weird shapes were still on my wall. I was out of that labyrinth, and I am safe now.

I sat up in my bed, trying to normalize my breathing and shake off the nightmare. The torture, the mutilation, the taste of an eye—everything was burned inside my mind, and it didn’t want to leave me alone. I buried my face in my trembling hands and started crying.

It was too suffocating; the walls in my bedroom felt close. I needed air. I had to escape. I sprang out of the bed, my bare feet touching the cool wooden floor. With unsteady steps, I made my way to the window, pulling the curtains aside and opening the window.

The fresh night air rushed in. The moon’s glow bathed me in a silvery hue. I fixed my gaze on the moon, trying to relax myself.

The nightmare had brought up my past deeds now, forcing me to remember what a monster I was and the things I'd done. I knew that man was right; I couldn’t undo the horrors I had committed and the lives I had destroyed. But perhaps I could choose another path now, a different one. A path that led away from darkness, a path of light. The road will be long, but I am determined to face it head-on.

"I swear, I will somehow make things right." I made a vow to myself as I stood there, bathing in the moon’s gentle glow.

"I will rewrite my story; there will be a different ending this time."