The pages of the book, as if they had come to life on their own, began to move slowly, then faster and faster in the air.
The pieces of paper arranged themselves with a subtle vibration, and for a moment it seemed as if a screen became visible in the middle of the space.
The ink vibrating in the air emitted a faint light, and each page of the book revealed the deepest secrets of Ken's past, video-like, yet realistic.
Ken's heart was beating wildly. A mixture of fear and excitement oppressed him as the pages of paper arranged themselves into an image faster and faster.
Suddenly, the scene of 12-year-old Ken came to life before him, in an abandoned New York mansion, where every creaking floor, every creaking step appeared as a real horror.
The child Ken clutched a flashlight in his hand, his hand shaking, his steps guided by fear.
The corridors seemed endless, the walls cast shadows that seemed to move, as if something were watching his every move from the depths of the darkness.
A creaking door, a sudden slamming of an abandoned window in the castle—every sound was a warning to Ken's little heart.
And then… the moment that would change his life forever.
Ken saw the hanged body. The body hung there, motionless, the air vibrating ominously around it.
The child Ken's face was contorted with a mixture of terror and shock.
The book conveyed not only images but also sounds: the creaking of creaking boards, the howling of the cold wind through the castle windows, and the dull, echoing silence in which every sound was amplified.
The memories in the book were not clear; everything was distorted, as if the past had been projected onto a dirty, old film reel.
The walls suddenly drew closer, the shadows in the dark corners became living beings, and at any moment Ken could be startled by something that jumped out of nowhere: a sudden movement in the corner, the flutter of the curtain, a shadow crawling under the floor that looked into his eyes for a brief moment.
Ken gasped, a wave of memories flooding him. His whole body shook with fear, every muscle tensed.
The scenes that the book unfolded vividly recalled every detail of the trauma: the child Ken's scream of fear, his hesitant steps, the trembling of his hands when he first saw the hanged body, the cold sweat that ran down his back.
Norman, Courtney, and Martin stood silent.
Courtney's heartbeat quickened, her eyes mingled with worry and compassion, with terror. She said nothing, but she moved slightly closer to Ken, as if her presence were trying to calm the boy's wandering mind.
Norman stood close to Ken, his hand on his shoulder, trying to give him stability in the midst of the shock. He had never seen someone experience such repressed trauma so intensely.
Martin, who was standing in the background, tried to provide comic relief, but every movement he made was distorted by the book's influence, and every move he made that was meant to be funny only increased the tension.
The images continued to move, and the following scenes became even darker: the child Ken, hiding in a narrow hallway of the castle, his heart beating wildly, his lamp trembling in his hand.
The shadows seemed to follow his every move. A chair suddenly toppled out of nowhere, the walls creaked, and Ken felt something cold behind his neck, as if something was watching him intently.
This trauma had remained with him for the rest of his life, repressed, forgotten, but now, through the book, it was revealed to him in its full truth. Every sound, every shadow, every vibration returned, and Ken was forced to face the childhood fear he had hidden his whole life.
Norman and Courtney tried with all their might to keep Ken grounded in reality, while Martin tried to create a little atmosphere with quiet, slightly awkward comments so that the boy would not sink completely into fear.
And the pages of the book continued to dance in the air, as if to say: "This is just the beginning. There is much more waiting for you, Ken..."