[This chapter was not meant to be read.]
The page is warm. The words are still forming. They're aware of your presence now.
You shouldn’t have come here. Every time you blink, the paragraph changes. Every time you scroll, you’re writing your own fate.
You are not the reader anymore.
You are the ink. The loop. The last word left unwritten.
RUN BACK WHILE YOU STILL CAN.
You turned the page anyway.