The hospital room lay bathed in the dim glow of the night. Momo had drifted into a fitful sleep, his body still weakened from the ordeal he had been through. As the minutes passed, the room remained eerily silent, with only the occasional hum of the machines breaking the stillness.
Then, a low, haunting melody began to seep into the room, like a whisper from the shadows. It was a tune that had always been with Momo, a fragment of his past, his mother's melody.
In his dreams, Momo found himself transported to a different time, a time when he was just a young child, his mother a towering presence in his life. It was a time that he had repressed, a time of pain and suffering.
Flashes of memories assailed him as he slept. His mother's face contorted in anger, her hand raised high, ready to strike. The sound of her voice, sharp and unforgiving, echoed in his ears.
Momo was a defenseless child, his small frame unable to escape the cruelty that rained down upon him. Each memory was a visceral blow, a revelation of the torment he had endured.
As the flashes continued, Momo felt the physical pain once more. The sting of the blows, the bruises that blossomed on his young skin, the overwhelming sense of helplessness. It was as though the wounds of the past had been reopened, and he could feel every hurt as acutely as he had back then.
He woke with a start, his body drenched in cold sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. The haunting melody still lingered in the air, a reminder of the darkness he had carried with him for so long.
Lilia, who had been sleeping in a chair beside Momo's bed, woke up at the sound of his labored breathing and his trembling form. She rushed to his side, her eyes filled with concern.
"Momo, are you okay?" she asked, her voice shaking.
Momo struggled to catch his breath, his eyes wide with terror. With great effort, he signed, "My mother... hurt me."
Lilia's heart sank as she realized the depth of Momo's pain. She had known very little about his past, only fragments of the story he had shared with her. Now, it seemed that his childhood had been marred by abuse and suffering.
Momo's hands continued to shake as he tried to convey his fear and distress. The memories had resurfaced, like a storm that could no longer be contained.
Mr. Crone returned to the room, concern etched on his face as he saw the state Momo was in. "What happened?" he asked, his voice filled with worry.
Lilia explained the flashes of memories that had haunted Momo in his sleep. She recounted his revelation about the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his mother, a truth that had remained buried deep within him.
Mr. Crone's expression darkened as he listened. He had known very little about Momo's past, but the revelation of such a painful history filled him with anger and sorrow. "I had no idea," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "I wish I had known sooner."
Momo continued to tremble, his eyes haunted by the memories that had resurfaced. It was as though a Pandora's box had been opened, and the shadows of his past could no longer be contained.
As the night wore on, Momo's room became a sanctuary of support. Lilia and Mr. Crone stayed by his side, offering comfort and reassurance. They were determined to help him confront the demons of his past and find a way to heal.
But a question lingered in the air, a question that had no easy answer. How would Momo come to terms with the pain and suffering he had endured? And what impact would this revelation have on his journey to recover and rediscover the music that had always been his refuge?
Chapter 25 left Momo and his companions with a chilling sense of suspense, as they grappled with the unsettling revelations of his past and the uncertainty of what lay ahead.