The moon hung low in the ink-black sky, it light barely piercing though
the dense forest canopy.
The girl move like a phantom her white dress trailing though the drap grass, already stained red at the hem her bare feet pressed softly against earth, each step deliberate as though guide by something unseen.The only sound her ragged breathing as she moved deeper into the shadows. The trees loomed over her like twisted sentinels, their gnarled branches clawing at the pale glow of the moon
The knife in her hand was slick , the blade reflecting a pale glow of moon infront of her lay the lifeless body of boy his body twisted unnaturally on ground his eyes blankly stared at stars above.
Blood seeped from the deep gash in his chest, pooling around his turning the earth beneath him into a dark , red swamp
It was him.
The boy stood there, facing her, his eyes wide with fear. He stumbled backward, his foot catching on a root, sending him sprawling to the ground. She took slow, deliberate steps toward him, the knife steady in her grip now, as if it had always belonged there.
"Please…" he choked out, his voice shaking, barely above a whisper. But she didn't stop. She couldn't.
The first strike was quick, the blade sinking into his chest with a sickening squelch. His gasp was sharp, his body jerking as blood spilled from the wound, staining the ground beneath him.
Her chest rose and fell heavily, her eyes wide and unblinking as she stared at the knife buried in his body. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face.
It wasn't a smile of relief or victory—it was something else entirely. Twisted. Haunting.
She crouched beside him, her bloodstained fingers brushing against his cheek. "You should have stayed away," she whispered, her voice soft, almost tender.
The forest seemed to hold its breath. The wind stopped, the trees stood still, and the world around her froze. Her smile faltered as she noticed his glassy, lifeless eyes staring back at her.
And then they shifted.
His cold, dead gaze seemed to meet hers, his lips parting as if to speak. Her heart stuttered in her chest, and a chill crawled up her spine.
She stumbled back, her hands slipping in the blood-soaked earth. The knife fell from her grasp, landing with a dull thud. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No, this isn't real."
The world tilted, the forest spinning around her. His body dissolved into shadows, and everything went dark.
She woke with a start, her body jolting upright. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, her hair plastered to her damp forehead. The room was pitch black, save for the faint glow of the moon peeking through the curtains.
Her hands flew to her face, trembling. She expected blood, warm and sticky, to coat her skin. But her palms were clean.
"It wasn't real," she whispered, her voice cracking. She glanced around the room, her heart hammering against her ribs. The dream felt so vivid, so terrifyingly real.
But the metallic taste of blood lingered on her tongue, and the phantom sensation of warm liquid on her skin refused to fade.
She threw off the covers and stumbled to the bathroom. The light flickered as it came on, casting sharp, jagged shadows on the walls. Gripping the edge of the sink, she stared at her reflection.
The girl in the mirror didn't look like her. Her eyes were wild, her pupils dilated, and her skin was pale as death. Her lips trembled as she splashed cold water on her face, trying to ground herself.
But when she looked down, her breath hitched.
Beneath her nails, faint streaks of red clung stubbornly. Her stomach churned as she backed away from the sink, her legs giving out beneath her.
She collapsed onto the floor,