When I was born, I was immediately thrust into a world of danger. My striking pale skin and beautiful eyes had marked me as different, an easy target for would-be predators. In an attempt to protect me, my parents covered my face with a mask, and only they and the doctors knew what I looked like. But despite their efforts to keep me safe, tragedy struck. One day, leaving me alone in the world. I was consumed by anger and hurt, and my once-innocent view of the world shattered overnight. I found myself unable to find any happiness after their passing. I stopped smiling and became cold, distant, and angry, knowing that my happiness had vanished with my parents. At first, I tried to turn to my grandparents for comfort, but as time went on, I discovered something strange about their behavior. When I tried to seek help or tell the authorities about my suspicions, no one believed me, dismissing my concerns as grief-stricken delusions. The world around doesn't make sense anymore. As my world was consumed by grief and the darkness within, I became plagued. Left alone to unravel the truth of what had happened to my family, my own safety hanging in the balance. Even as I uncovered more and more information about their deaths, I realized that there were more things people are doing in the secrets.