They never found her.
She vanished.
But the house she left behind?
It was empty.
Except for one room.
Locked.
They had to break it down.
Inside was a shrine.
Not to God.
Not to the dead.
To love.
To obsession.
To *her*.
The walls were lined with mirrors.
All facing a single chair.
Chains on the arms.
Straps on the legs.
A speaker above.
Playing the same lullaby.
Over and over.
And on the wall, written in what looked like blood:
"I never let go."
"I never forget."
"I love you forever."
And on the floor?
A Polaroid.
A man.
Smiling.
Alive.
But his eyes?
They were missing.
Gouged out.
And in the corner of the photo, barely visible?
A hand.
Holding a scalpel.
Smiling.
Always smiling.