RIKA
I stood outside the last room at the end of the hallway, staring at the heavy oak door like it might swallow me whole. My hand rested on the cold metal handle. For the first time in ages, ever since this whole trauma started, I felt something shift inside me. Power, Responsibility and Purpose.
The rage that had been simmering quietly in my chest for years exploded ten times harder after that. Maybe a hundred times. Because all this time, I carried guilt that wasn't mine. Suffered for a crime I didn't commit. Let myself be broken by people who knew the truth but stayed silent.
The bag in my left hand felt heavier than it should. All those items inside. Tools and Instruments. Things I never thought I'd use but collected anyway over the past few days.
I turned the handle, pushed the
