Chapter Title: Shadows Of The Past
Life is a relentless storm, throwing uncertainties into our path. But if there's one thing I've learned, it's this: you face the bull head-on, grip its horns, and wrestle it into submission.
Ann's POV
They say nightmares end when you wake up. But for me, waking up only drags me into another one. My life has been a chain of unending chaos — one storm after another.
My pulse thundered in my ears as I raced through the cold, desolate halls. The slap of my footsteps echoed like a frantic heartbeat against the marble floors, each step sharper than the last. My lungs burned with every breath, and fear clawed at my chest with cold, unforgiving fingers.
The unknown terror that gripped me had no name, but it had a voice. A voice I knew too well — the one that haunted my dreams and shadowed my nights.
"Murderer! Murderer!"
The voice screeched louder this time, slicing through the air like a blade against glass. Each word was a blow, deliberate and cruel.
"You ran, thinking you could escape the truth. Run all you want, but it won't change a thing. You killed her."
The words hit harder than any fist could. My chest tightened, breath catching like a snare around my throat. Guilt. Sharp, hot, and suffocating. It coiled around my heart, squeezing until I felt like I would choke on it.
Why?
I stumbled, pressing a hand to my chest as my breathing turned shallow and erratic. My heart thudded wildly, and I felt the cold edges of panic close in on me.
Why do I feel this way? I did nothing wrong. I am guilty of nothing. So why… why does it feel like I am?
My knees threatened to give out, but I braced myself against the wall, fingers trembling against the cold, unforgiving surface. The whispers of doubt curled around my mind, venomous and relentless.
"You killed her."
No. I shook my head violently, forcing myself to breathe, to think. But the words had already taken root, their thorns burrowing deep.
I'd already accepted it — the end. It settled in my chest like a weight too heavy to lift. Eyes shut, breaths shallow, I waited. For what, I didn't know.
Silence wrapped around me, thick and oppressive. My heart slowed, each beat a fading echo in the distance. This is it, I told myself. No more running. No more fighting.
But then—
A voice.
It wasn't loud, but it cut through the quiet like a crack of lightning in a storm. My breath hitched. I knew that voice, didn't I? It hovered on the edge of recognition, just out of reach.
I forced my eyes open, blinking against the pitch-black void. Nothing but darkness greeted me — a hollow, suffocating emptiness that made my chest tighten. My pulse quickened, panic creeping in.
No. Not again.
I shut my eyes, desperate to block it all out, to pretend it wasn't real. But before I could retreat into that fragile darkness, something changed.
A hand.
It broke through the void, steady and sure, fingers reaching toward me like it had been searching for me all along.
I didn't think.
Didn't hesitate.
I reached for it with every ounce of strength I had left, clutching it like it was the last thread tethering me to the world. Warmth. Real. Solid. It grounded me in a way the void never could.
And for the first time in a long while, I felt something other than fear.
Hope....
******
I shot up in bed, a sharp gasp tearing from my throat as if I'd been suffocating. My chest burned, my heart pounding so violently it drowned out every other sound around me.
"It was just a dream," I whispered hoarsely, then louder, "Just a twisted, godforsaken nightmare!" My voice cracked, trembling with anger and disbelief.
But it didn't feel like a dream. The pain in my chest had been too vivid, the guilt too consuming. Every sensation, every moment, had clawed at me like it was real.
My hands trembled as I gripped the sheets, my thoughts spiraling. No, it can't all be a dream. That's impossible. Isn't it?
Yet the pang of guilt lingered, a sharp blade twisting inside me, refusing to let me go. Reality blurred, and I couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that some part of it was real—terribly, undeniably real.
I dragged my hand through my hair, each tug tighter than the last as frustration coiled in my chest. The pressure was suffocating, a weight I couldn't shake. For a fleeting second, the thought of slamming my head against the bedpost crossed my mind, but I clenched my jaw and forced it down. Not like this. Not again.
I was drowning in my thoughts when the soft creak of the door pulled me back. My head snapped toward the sound. There she was — my safe place in human form. My mother. The one person who always knew what to say, even when I didn't have the words for what I felt.
She didn't speak right away. Her gaze moved over me, slow and careful, like she was piecing together every shard of my broken mood. I knew that look. She was reading me.
"What's wrong, honey?" she asked finally, her voice gentle but firm, like she already had an answer and just needed me to confirm it.
And just like that, the weight in my chest didn't feel so unbearable anymore.
The moment her words reached me, it all came crashing down. My chest tightened, my breath hitched, and before I knew it, the tears I'd fought so hard to contain came pouring out. No warning. No control. They flowed freely, hot and unrelenting, streaking down my face. I didn't even try to wipe them away. What was the point? It felt like they'd never stop.
She crossed the room with quiet purpose, her presence alone enough to unravel me further. The bed dipped under her weight, and without a word, she pulled me in. My head found its place against her chest, right where it had fit so perfectly when I was small. Her hand moved in slow, steady circles on my back, the warmth of it seeping through my skin and into the parts of me I didn't know were cold.
"Everything will be fine," she murmured, her voice low and steady, like a song only I was meant to hear. "We'll overcome this too, so shh... just breathe."
Her words didn't stop the tears, but they softened the ache in my chest. Little by little, I felt myself unclenching, letting go of the weight I didn't even know I was carrying.
Slm...