There is a decision to be made.
The very core of your fragile existence looks to this question that has haunted you for years and now scratched its way through your membranes, towards your muffled heart and taken over.
The very thought is indigestible to the human stomach, a permanent thud against the lining, sickening, even to yourself.

Suicide.

It seems simple enough; it is almost fitting to be killed by the hand that loathes you most. But it is your decision and it needs to be made.
There is a red translucent light, paralysed by amniotic fluid, is this the destiny of that lonely child? When will my voice undulate through your bones and whisper those three words you need to hear? You may have blocked the waves with your castle wall but I will keep fighting to free you from the tower you locked yourself in, until I am devoid.

Please stay with me.