What Your Allowed To See

The sky doesn’t tear open all at once.
It watches you first.
When the ship arrives, it takes everything—your house, your family, your sense of before and after. You are taken with thousands of others into a place that insists it is safe. Perfect. Better than what you left behind.
You don’t believe it.
You don’t know if you ever have.
Details slip when you aren’t looking. Conversations reset. Fear comes and goes without permission. Everyone else seems grateful. Everyone else seems calm. You’re the only one who notices how often you’re told to relax, to trust, to stop asking questions.
You’re told this is real.
You’re told this is happening.
You’re told this is what you’re allowed to see.

Told entirely in second person, What You’re Allowed to See is a claustrophobic descent into fractured perception, following a teenage girl trapped between invasion and delusion, terror and comfort. The world around you is beautiful—but beauty can be engineered. Safety can be enforced. And paradise can be another word for containment.
Because something wants you to stay.
And the longer you remain, the harder it becomes to remember why you ever wanted to leave.