Echo Grey

Imagine growing up in a place where the world is nothing but white walls, masked faces, and the sting of overhead lights. A place where your days blur together on a cold metal table. A place where you never speak, never touch sunlight, never form a single connection.

Captivity is all you know.

Until the day something breaks.

I do not blame the person who made me this way. I only hope you learn from what happened to us and use it to change the world before it is too late. Because if you do not, you may end up like me.

No memories.

No understanding of the world beyond the walls.

No way back.

My name is Echo Grey.

And there is blood on my hands.

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