Novel & Cerita Locked In Syndrome Book

she asked, suspicion creeping into her tone. I leaned forward slightly. "The emergency lock, bars the windows and doors with silver," I explained. Her expression darkened. "Silver," she echoed. "Yes. The moment that lockdown activated, the banquet hall became a prison—one designed to weaken us." I let my words settle. "Had we not found a way out, Ingrid, you would have died." She stiffened. "The silver impaired your healing and suppressed your wolf. And as for the rest of us? We would have been too weak for them to finish the job when they came back."

Because of their prolonged exposure to below-freezing temperatures and oxygen deprivation, the outer layer of their brain had suffered necrosis that could not be reversed. In simpler terms, they fell into a coma. The doctor told me their conditions were rather unusual. They could not move, speak, or even swallow on their own, but the neural pathways responsible for pain and hearing had miraculously remained intact. In other words, they could feel pain and hear the sounds around them, and their minds might even still be conscious. But they were trapped inside their own bodies, unable to send any signal to the outside world forever. This was called locked-in syndrome.

I love you, forever and always. .......................................................................... The four walls that make up the room I had been in for days should have been my safe haven but instead, I was drowning . I was drowning all alone and would let no one near enough to pull me out. I was yet to accept my loss. I felt as though I was choking on my thoughts daily. My body too was fighting so hard and on instinct refused to let me give up. When my head felt like it was about to explode and give up the most, my body simply wouldn't let it. The adrenaline will pump in and i would start breaking things to release all the pain. For months, I was in control of nothing. I wanted to

The lock clicks. Sealing my fate.

The ledger lay open on Isabella’s desk, a brutal relic sprawled across polished glass like an uninvited truth. The pages, yellowed and fragile, seemed to hum with the weight of two decades of buried pain. Outside her suite, the Cornish night was quiet. Too quiet. But inside, her world was crashing. She stared at the line she had already memorised, read it again anyway: “Voluntary: No. Highly resistant personality. Excessive cognitive independence. Unwillingness to adhere to societal norms. High emotional attachments. Potential for systemic destabilisation.”

Archibald explained it very seriously, "Decades ago, there were three major fears among those who roamed the martial world. They were concerned about theft, poisoning, and locking. What people wanted to avoid the most was locking." Following that, Archibald slowly explained it to everyone. Locking was a technique for isolating the body's flow and movements by hitting specific pressure points. Even though it would not completely immobilize a person, the locked person would be in excruciating pain and unable to unlock themselves. The symptoms might vary depending on the locking technique used. Some people might experience convulsions, headaches, severe pain throughout their bodies, or excessiv

"Wh-what do you mean, he won't be able to have children? He was 15 when he went in. And what do you mean by blunt force and chemical damage?" The doctor replied, "It means your son was deliberately sterilized at the correction center. Given his age at the time, this constitutes a serious criminal offense. We are required to report it. I also need to understand something. What kind of environment was your son in tonight when he attempted this?" Silence fell. Mom's voice came through in fragments. "He was locked…in the storage room…with no lights…" "Who locked him in?" A longer silence ensued. "I did." Dad's voice was barely a whisper. "I just… I wanted him to calm down…"

No matter how calm he looked, he was barely keeping it together. We followed her into a private office. The doctor rose the moment we entered, his expression guarded but professional. His coat hung crisp against his frame, and there was a tablet already pulled up with Nikolai’s vitals on display. I didn’t bother sitting. “What happened?” I asked, skipping past pleasantries. The doctor exhaled slowly. “We stabilized him after he woke up,” he began, “but his injuries are... significant. He’s suffering from a condition known as Locked-In Syndrome, which essentially means he’s conscious and aware, but unable to move or speak.”

I close my eyes in tiredness because of talking this much. *** It’s been two weeks since I am admitted to this hospital. As promised, Luc never steps out of this room. He accompanies me along in case I have to be taken for some tests. In short, he makes sure I am always in his sight, and he is always in mine. He understands my fear as I am traumatized by the events and suffering from nightmares since.