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The wind blew softly as I walked past the graveyard, the chilling autumn air settling into my skin. Shadows of headstones stretched across the ground, forming twisted shapes that seemed to writhe as the trees swayed. An eerie silence blanketed the cemetery, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves. I always felt as though I were being watched whenever I passed this place, an unsettling sensation creeping along my spine, like ghostly fingers trailing over my skin.

I quickened my pace, my breath shallow, each step louder than the last. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, each beat a frantic rhythm of fear. Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a shadow moving in sync with my own. Panic surged within me, prickling my skin as I fought the urge to look. I didn't want to see what lurked behind me, convinced that if I did, something terrible would happen.

In a blind rush, I ran, my feet pounding against the gravel path, my mind racing. When I finally reached my destination—a small, quiet hill just outside the graveyard—I stopped, gasping for air as if it were the only thing tethering me to reality. Gathering my courage, I turned to look behind me, expecting to confront whatever had been following me.

But there was nothing. Just a lone tree swaying gently in the wind, its branches casting long, skeletal shadows over the ground. *It's muddy here, so there should be footprints, right?* My hands shook as I took out my flashlight, the beam of light piercing through the darkness as I scanned the ground. My heart raced faster, each shadow on the wet earth a potential threat.

Then, in an instant, a face appeared within the beam of my flashlight. An old woman, staring directly at me with hollow, empty eye sockets. Her face was lined and weathered, as though she'd been buried long ago, and her mouth hung open in a silent scream. Before I could react, she reached out, her cold, bony hand gripping mine with an unnatural strength.

*AHhhhhh!*

"Hestia, are you alright?" A familiar voice broke through the suffocating fear, and I slowly turned toward it. It was my mom, her face soft and full of concern. I nodded, feeling an overwhelming dizziness wash over me, and lay back down, trying to shake off the terror. *It was just a dream,* I told myself, but the words felt hollow.

Staring at the wall, I tried to steady my breathing when a strange sensation crawled over me—an aura I'd never encountered before, thick and suffocating. Warily, I glanced over my shoulder, and there she was: my mom, but her expression was wrong. Her smile was stretched impossibly wide, nearly reaching her ears, and her eyes sparkled with an unsettling glee, as though watching my discomfort brought her pleasure.

Then, a horrifying realization dawned on me.

I couldn't remember coming home. And my mom… she had been dead for three years.

My mind rebelled, a storm of confusion and dread whirling through me. I felt trapped in my own body, unable to turn away from the woman standing before me. *Who is this woman? Why does she look exactly like my mom? Where am I? Whose house is this? And… whose bed am I lying in?*

I fought to hold back a scream, feeling my heart pound erratically. It was as if something cold and heavy had settled onto my chest, pressing down, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Then, her voice, once comforting, warped into something twisted: "You alright, dar—ling?" The word twisted on her tongue, her voice like a growl as though spoken through gritted teeth.

Fear gripped me, rooting me in place. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, could barely even think. The woman who looked like my mother stared down at me with a gaze that held no warmth, no love. Slowly, her skin began to peel, curling back in patches to reveal rotting flesh beneath. My mind screamed in terror, but my body was frozen, paralyzed by the horror before me. The room seemed to shrink, shadows flickering at the edges of my vision, closing in around me.

A drop of water splashed onto my forehead, snapping me back to the present. I looked up, expecting to see the ceiling of my room, but there was only darkness above me—an endless, consuming void. *Is this a dream? Am I awake?* I couldn't tell anymore. The line between reality and nightmare had blurred, trapping me in an unending horror.

Raindrops began falling steadily, soaking through my clothes as I lay sprawled on the ground. I was outside, in front of my house, the cold rain chilling me to the bone. Disoriented, I slowly stood, the world around me dim and silent except for the relentless pounding of the rain. I moved toward the gate, but something invisible held me back, pinning my feet to the ground. A suffocating dread filled me, memories of the dream clawing their way back into my mind.

Suddenly, a heavy weight pressed down on my back, forcing me to stumble. I could feel a presence, cold and cloying, clinging to me like a parasite. My heart leaped as I turned slowly, terror thrumming through my veins.

There she was—the woman from my dream. Her face was twisted, her flesh hanging loosely from her skull, her eyes empty and haunting. She clung to me with a grip that felt both real and otherworldly, her presence familiar yet terrifying, as though my worst fear had come to life.

My scream tore through the rain-soaked night, raw and desperate, but it seemed to vanish into the storm. I tried to pull away, stumbling backward, but she tightened her hold, her cold, decaying hands digging into my shoulders. The rain continued to pour, but it felt surreal, almost dreamlike, compared to the nightmare unfolding before me.

I was trapped, suspended between the storm and the horror of my own mind, unable to escape the figure that clung to me like a shadow.

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SUMMARIZE FOR BETTER UNDERSTANDING

Hestia is still grieving for her mother and struggles with a profound fear of being alone or abandoned, feelings that intensified when her mother passed away. This loss has led her to isolate herself from others, compounding her sense of loneliness. She suffers from anxiety and depression, which manifest in vivid hallucinations where she perceives her mother as still being alive. These experiences create a painful conflict with reality, as she sees her mother in flesh, further blurring the lines between her memories and the present.

This overwhelming grief and mental strain have culminated in a mental illness, likely characterized by symptoms such as hallucinations and disorganized thinking. Hestia's emotional turmoil is not only a reflection of her unresolved grief but also highlights her struggle to navigate a world without her mother, leaving her trapped in a cycle of longing and despair.