4 AM. The alarm clock blared, jolting me awake from a restless sleep. I groggily stumbled out of bed and made my way to the bathroom to wash up. As I splashed cold water on my face, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over me. Today was the day I had been dreading - the day I had to confront the room that had become a symbol of all my pain and suffering.
I hastily got dressed, throwing on the first outfit I could find. Grabbing a cup of coffee for some much-needed caffeine, I made my way down the dimly lit hallway. The voices grew louder as I approached the dreaded room. Shouts and screams echoed through the air, sending shivers down my spine.
