NYCTOPHILIA

**Prologue** The night had always been her refuge. In the inky blackness, she found solace, a comforting embrace that shielded her from the harsh glare of the world. The sun, with its blinding light and incessant demands, felt like a cruel reminder of everything she had lost, everything she could never be. But the night—the night was different. It was quiet, gentle, and understanding. In the darkness, Amie could let the weight of her thoughts slip away, becoming just another shadow that merged with the others in her room. The darkness didn't judge her for the tears that silently streamed down her face, nor did it ask her to be anything other than what she was—a girl lost in a labyrinth of her own mind, struggling to find a way out. The world outside was vibrant, full of life, yet it felt distant, like a dream she could never fully grasp. She had once been a part of it, had once felt the warmth of the sun on her skin and the joy of laughter in her heart. But those days were long gone, replaced by a cold, hollow ache that gnawed at her insides. Now, the darkness was her only friend, the only thing that truly understood her. She liked it that way. In the shadows, she could disappear, blend into the background, and let the world move on without her. It was in this darkness that she felt safe, where her thought wanders, weaving through the night, unbound by the expectations and demands of daylight. Yet, even in this sanctuary, there was a flicker of something else—an ember of yearning, buried deep within her. It was a faint, almost forgotten desire of her, she pushed that thought away. For now, the night was enough. The darkness was enough. And in this quiet, lonely place, she would stay, waiting for a dawn that might never come.