In her elegantly furnished bedroom, Nono stood motionless with her forehead pressed firmly against the white wall.
A haunting lullaby drifted from her lips. It was not sung in her own voice. Instead, the melody emerged in the deep, gravelly voice of a middle-aged man, making the gentle tune all the more unsettling.
As she hummed, both hands tapped softly against the wall in a slow, rhythmic pattern, keeping time with the eerie song. The sound was faint but unnervingly deliberate, echoing through the room with hypnotic precision.
Her once-pristine white nightgown was smeared with dirt across the back, as though she had spent hours crawling through the earth before returning to her room.
She neither turned... nor acknowledged anyone's presence.
She simply continued humming, her forehead resting against the wall, lost in a trance that seemed to belong to someone—or something—else.
"No-no, baby girl… it is Uncle Alex," I called out nervously. A deep sadness swept through me.
