**Chapter 3: Echoes of Silence**

The darkness receded, and I found myself in a world of muted colors and soft sounds. I was still trapped in my own private hell, but the fog that shrouded my mind had begun to lift. Hange's face was inches from mine, his eyes warm and concerned. "Hey, it's okay," he whispered, his voice a gentle breeze on a summer's day. "You're safe. You're going to be okay." I stared at him, my mind a jumble of confusion. Who was this person? Why was he touching me? I didn't know, but his presence was comforting. As the days passed, Hange became my anchor in a world that was still overwhelming and terrifying. He would talk to me, read to me, and hold my hand. I didn't understand what he was saying, but his voice was soothing, and his touch was calming. One day, as Hange was reading to me from a book, I suddenly became aware of a sound. It was a faint hum, a low-pitched vibration that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I focused on it, my mind drawn to the sound like a magnet. Hange noticed the change in me and stopped reading. "What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes locked on mine. I didn't know how to respond, but I couldn't take my eyes off his. I stared at him, my mind racing with... something. I didn't know what. Hange smiled and continued reading. As he spoke, I found myself becoming more aware of the sounds around me. I could hear the hum of the machines, the rustle of the pages, and the gentle beat of Hange's heart. It was as if my brain was slowly coming online, piece by piece. I was still a stranger in a strange land, but I was beginning to find my footing. One day, as Hange was bathing me, I suddenly reached out and touched his arm. It was a tentative touch, a hesitant exploration of the world around me. Hange's eyes lit up with excitement, and he smiled. "You're responding," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "You're starting to come back to me." I didn't know what he meant, but I knew that I had touched him. It was a small, insignificant gesture, but it was a start. I was beginning to connect with the world around me, to find my place in it. As the weeks turned into months, I continued to make progress. I began to respond to my name, to recognize familiar faces, and to make sounds that approximated words. It was a slow, painful process, but I was getting there. And then, one day, I spoke. It was a single word, a rough, guttural sound that was barely intelligible. But it was a start. I had broken free from my prison of silence, and I was ready to take on the world. The word was "Hange." I had spoken his name, and he was smiling at me, tears of joy streaming down his face. "Welcome back," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Welcome back to the world of the living."