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Chap 1:Number 0

  The world was concrete grey.

  Cold.

  Lifeless.

  Luna opened her eyes to a hard metal ceiling, her body stiff on a steel bed with no blanket, no pillow—just an aching chill that settled in her spine like frost.

  Her fingers twitched. Her head turned. She blinked slowly, staring at the bland room of cement walls and silence.

  She wear a grey sweatsuit, both soft and clinical, boldly displaying a number “0” as if it were a label.

  Is this some kind of uniform?

  â€śâ€¦What the hell is this?” she whispered.

  She remembered the car accident !

  The sound of metal folding like paper. Her mother’s scream, distant, panicked. Then silence.

  She remembered dying.

  So. This was hell?

  Not fire. Not demons. Just… concrete. And loneliness.

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  Luna let out a sigh, her voice thin and trembling. “I mean, okay. I get it. Maybe I sinned or something. I did lie about doing homework for

  playing games sometimes.

  Is that worth eternal punishment?” Her attempt at humor fell flat against the walls.

  Still, she sat up or tried to.

  But her body wouldn’t respond. Her core trembled, but her legs didn’t move.

  Luna blinked. Her heart skipped.

  Then she looked.

  She screamed. A sound that tore from her throat and bounced off empty walls.

  Her legs—were gone.

  From mid-thigh down, there was nothing. Clean, healed stumps. No blood. No sign of injury, just… absence. Like someone had neatly erased them.

  â€śNo. No no no no—what the hell?!”

  She clawed at the edge of the bed, dragging herself forward to see better. Panic coiled in her chest like a vice.

  Was it from the accident?

  Is this part of the punishment?

  Is this a dream?

  Is this a joke?

  Tears welled up, hot and unwelcome. She wiped them away with the sleeve marked number 0.

  â€śOkay. Okay. So I’m disabled now. In hell. Sure. Makes sense.”

  Her laugh came out hollow. “No legs, no food, no doors, no one.”

  Just grey.

  Grey bed. Grey walls. Grey clothes. Even her hair, usually so full of personality, now looked dull and matted around her face.

  She was completely alone.

  And suddenly… tired.

  There was no point in yelling. No point in crying. No one to hear it.

  She lay back on the hard bed, arms curled around her torso like a cocoon. Her lips trembled, but she said nothing. Just stared at the ceiling with wide, glassy eyes.

  â€śI’m not even fifteen yet,” she whispered, voice cracking.

  And then, in the concrete silence of the grey cell, she closed her eyes.

  If this was the end again she’d at least get some

  rest before it came.

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