Cold. Again.
I opened my eyes, but there's only darkness.
"Where are you?" someone calls.
My breath catches. Where am I? Who is that?
Then another voice, sharp, urgent. "Burn it, Taty. Now!"
That voice… I know it.
I try to answer, but my mouth won't open. Something thick and liquid presses over my face, flooding in like I'm drowning. I fight, desperate to move, to claw it away—but nothing. My body is dead weight.
Help. I try to scream, but my voice is stolen.
"Taty! Open your eyes!"
But they are open.
Footsteps pound nearby, rushing past me, not toward me, until the sound disappears into nothing. The liquid slides deeper, searching for my lungs. I choke.
"Tat!"
That nickname hits harder than the fear. I know him. I should know him.
And then hands tear through the dark, ripping at whatever is smothering me. The face above me is blurred, but the arms are strong.
"Tat. Take my hand."
"I can't move."
"Yes, you can. It's just in your head. Take my hand!"
I try, but my arms feel like stone.
Then voices—more of them.
"She's here." Footsteps close in. "She has to wake up. Now." A young man's voice.
"That's too dangerous," someone warns. "We don't have time. She'll burn out."
This voice…
The words blur, fading into murmurs, but the question stays sharp in my skull: Who are they?
Pain blooms in my arms. A stinging spark, then fire. It explodes under my skin, devouring everything.
I scream out in pain and jolt upright, gasping, barefoot on the icy floor of my bedroom.
My bedroom.
My heart slams against my ribs. Silence.
That was… another dream.
My body is damp, my hair sticking to my neck. Sweat, I realize. The air is freezing.
I lift my head, and my stomach drops.
The window is open. I'm sure I closed it before going to bed.
Before I can move, footsteps rush down the hall, and my mom bursts into the room.
"Hey, honey," Mom says immediately, cupping my face like she can find the answer in my eyes. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I breathe. "It was just another nightmare."
I pull away gently and force myself up, crossing the room to shut the window.
"What did you see this time?" she asks, her voice too careful, too nervous, as she sits on the edge of my bed.
"I don't know." My fingers curl around the latch. "I can't remember."
Mom swallows. "Try to remember, Tafukt. Maybe tomorrow we can talk to your doctor, so he can—"
"I'm okay," I cut in.
Silence.
Then, softer: "Come sit next to me."
I let out a sharp breath. "Mom… I'm not nine anymore. You don't have to sing me back to sleep."
Her expression hardens.
"Tafukt," she says, voice suddenly firm, "bring yourself to this bed. Immediately."
I groan under my breath but drag myself back, dropping beside her. I sink against the pillow, Mom's warmth beside me, but it doesn't calm the heaviness in my chest. My body still trembles from the dream, my heart hammering like it's trying to escape.
"You don't have to pretend you're fine," Mom says softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I can see it… something's wrong."
"I'm okay," I mutter, but the words feel empty. Dreams are supposed to end when you wake up, aren't they?
She doesn't push. Instead, she lets me be, just sitting beside me quietly.
I close my eyes, trying to shake the last fragments of the nightmare, the darkness, the voices, the suffocating weight.
Finally she leaves the room, and the darkness presses in again, heavy. I can barely breathe, my chest tight, my heartbeat hammering in my ears.
I shuffle to the window and open it, trying to steal breaths from the cold night air.
I look down, scanning the yard.
Near the old oak tree, I swear I see something—or someone—watching me. I squint, trying to make out a face, but the shadows swallow it whole.
Panic claws at me.
I bolt to the garage, grab my dad's heavy flashlight, go outside, and aim it toward the figure.
The beam cuts through the darkness.
Nothing.
No one. Just empty grass swaying in the wind.
My imagination? Or am I losing my mind?
I turn to go back inside and slam straight into someone.
"Dad!" I gasp.
"What are you doing outside in the middle of the night? And turn that off!" he snaps.
"I… I—"
He stares at me, waiting. Impatient. Demanding.
"I dropped my necklace," I stammer. "I came to look for it."
He gives me a look that could slice steel. "I'd believe you more if you said you were sneaking out to see a boy. Now get inside. It's freezing."
Before I can protest, he grabs my arm like he's afraid I'll bolt.
Mom appears in the doorway, worry etched across her face.
I lower my head and hurry up the stairs, back to my room, my chest heaving.
From the hallway, I hear them arguing.
"We need to find a solution," Dad murmurs, voice tight. "She can't live like this."
"You will not..." Mom starts, before the door clicks shut, leaving me alone with the echoes of their anger… and the lingering shadow outside my window.
I closed the door, and slammed onto the bed trying to sleep again,
I didn't know it yet, but that was the last night my life was normal.