I was awoken rudely in the middle of the night when those two strange men came for me. My father was gripping my shoulders tightly, shaking me as if he wanted to break me.

“Dad?” I mumbled incoherently, the vision of my vivid dream still searing the backs of my eyes as I blinked up at the three men. Lately, my dreams had been so intense, it took a moment for reality to sink in. And that night, reality truly did sink in. “Dad? What’s wrong?” He was silent, and it was then that I spotted the other two men. “Who are they?” I asked, suddenly extremely wary and conscious of my father’s deadpan expression.

“Thank you, Mr. Robinson. We can take it from here,” one of the men said firmly.

He glanced at them, nodded wordlessly, and left the room. The same man approached me carefully.

“Ilya Robinson?” he asked.

I nodded dumbly, completely unaware of the dangers that this man posed.

“You are being committed to an asylum. Do you understand?”

“What?” I was so confused. Perplexed. What on earth was going on? “Mother! Dad! Please! What’s going on?” I shouted, struggling out of bed and rushing towards the door. The men grabbed me before I’d taken more than a few steps.

“Mr. Robinson, don’t make this any harder than it has to be,” the second man said.

They drug me roughly out of the attic and down the steep narrow stairs. I was screaming desperately, screaming for my parents to help. But I couldn’t find them. Instead, it was Lenora, my younger sister, who stumbled out of her bedroom, confusion written across her face.

“What’s happening? Who are these men?” Her gaze shifted to me. “Ilya? Brother, where are you going?” she asked.

“Lenora, help me! They think I’m crazy! Tell them I’m not crazy! Please, little sister!” I shouted over my shoulder, craning my head to look back at her. But as her eyes met mine, I realized she behind that angelic, innocent face, there was a liar, a snake, and my hope faded forever.

The men looked back at her and paused, holding me securely while I tried to squirm away. “Don’t worry, little lady. We’re going to help your big brother.”

“Oh, good,” Lenora sighed as she pretended to shiver. “I’ve been so scared of Ilya lately. He gets so violent. Look, he even bit me!” And then my darling little sister framed me. She offered her arm to the nearest man, enticing him to bend down closer, to look at the scar that our old dog, Baron, had given her a few months ago after she foolishly teased him with a biscuit.

The man recoiled in disgust, tightening his grip on me. “A regular little wildcat, aren’t you, Mr. Robinson?” He tugged me once more down the stairs, his partner following.

The last memory I have of Lenora is of her beautiful young face smiling down at me… smiling down at me so very vindictively as she watched her beloved older brother being dragged down the stairs by strangers, never to be seen again.

In the kitchen, the second man bundled me into a straightjacket, despite my every effort to escape his vice-like grip.

My father simply watched with a blank expression on his face, staring numbly even as I turned to him for salvation.

“Dad, please don’t do this to me,” I begged frenziedly. “Please! I love you! I’m your son! Your only son!”

“You’re not my son,” he breathed vehemently. “You are not my son! Ilya Robinson is dead, you hear me? Dead!” He stormed out of the room, slamming the kitchen door so fiercely the saucepans jumped, and a plate in the sideboard fell and smashed as it hit the ground.

“Dad, please… Dad, come back. Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” I sobbed. It was then that I noticed my mother sitting quietly in the corner. “Mother! Oh, Mother, please! Please help me!”

“You’re not my son,” she said calmly, her voice hushed. “You killed my Ilya. You killed him. He’s dead. Dead, dead, dead! That was your choice. And this is ours.” She turned away, oblivious to my still despairing pleas. “Take him now… Please, take this monster away.”