Amelie, a young Belgian girl discovers a hidden room inside her house and later wishes she hadn't; secrets and lies and corruption plague her every move, and as she attempts to escape, the further she gets into the drama. Soon, she finds herself not knowing where she is anymore, and who she is, but has only one thought in her mind: to kill. With the unnverving controversy surrounding her wherever she goes, she goes into a life of hiding, murder, and deceit, not knowing what the final outcome of
Wet, moist. The little beads of wet trickled down the cracks in the dusty windows and splattered quietly on the hardwood floor. Silence, then running. The footsteps reverberated throughout the old citadel as if there was a stampede of wild animals galloping through, but this was escape. An escape from reality and an escape from the surreal world that had become the focus of much of Amelie's thoughts.
"Zania, how..." The little girl paused as she looked outside, hands shaking as she held them against her hot, charcoaled cheeks. "How could I?" Her olive coloured eyes glinted in the soft sunlight that shone in through the spiderwebs, like a maze of twisting glittering silver threads of silk. Footsteps, and then shadows. Shadows creeped up the walls, and Amelie shuddered alone as she closed her eyes for comfort. No one came, but she slowly got up and scanned the room nervously, looking for signs of any enemies or friends. Nothing. Beads of sweat ran down her face as she glanced cautiously down the hallway, a look of sheer determination in her face as she began to run swiftly down towards it; whatever little girl she once was she would not find. Not even if she looked for her.