Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Renaissance

The pain was sharp, unbearable. Lilian awoke to a sensation that sliced through her like a jagged blade, leaving her breathless and disoriented. For a moment, confusion clouded her mind. Hadn’t she already died? How was it possible that she was still here, alive? Instinctively, she sat up with a jolt and glanced down at her hands. They were small—childlike, even. Though dirt smudged her fingers, they were unblemished, untouched by scars or deformities. A wave of terror washed over her as she reached up to touch her face. Her skin felt soft, smooth, completely unmarred. No twisted scars, no signs of the horrors she had endured before. The shock jolted her fully awake.

Her eyes scanned the room, and suddenly, realization dawned—she was back in the same grim place where she had been held captive during the year she was kidnapped at the age of eight. Could it be possible? Had she truly been reborn? Returned to that very day when her nightmare began? At this point in time, she had not yet been handed over to her adoptive parents, nor subjected to their cruelty—the beatings, the starvation, the endless torment. Her voice was still hers, her face unscarred. None of the tragedies had yet unfolded. There was still a chance to rewrite her story, to change the course of her life.

But first, she needed to escape.

Determined, Lilian stretched her limbs and swung her legs over the edge of the narrow bed. The room was small and dimly lit, the stale air heavy with neglect. She moved cautiously toward the window, peeking out to take stock of her surroundings. Fortunately, no one stood guard inside the room. The only obstacle was a heavy chain and padlock securing the door. They must have assumed that a drugged eight-year-old wouldn’t awaken so soon, letting their vigilance slip.

Two windows punctuated the walls. One, situated near the door, overlooked the front yard where she could see the dealers idly playing cards, their laughter and murmurs drifting faintly through the air. That path was hopeless. Her gaze shifted to the second window, which was open but positioned high above the ground—too high for a child her size, almost like a sheer cliff. Yet, if she could muster the strength and courage to climb, she could break free from this prison once and for all.

Her mind was resolute.