The silent
She wakes in the dark,heart hammering against her ribs,certain that Somebody is standing in the room.
The air is heavy,pressing against her chest. The silence isn't empty- it hums,alive,like the pause before a scream.
Her eyes dart to the corner where shadows gather,thick and black. Nothing moves. Still, she knows she isn't alone. She has felt this before- the weight of being watched,measured,judged.
She doesn't speak. She hasn't for years. Words have betrayed her once,and she buried them deep whee no one could use them against her again.
The clock on the nightsands ticks too loud,sharp like a drip of water in a hollow cave. Tick. Tick. Tick. She wants to smash it into pieces, but she can't move.
There's a memory clawing at the edge of her mind- a door slamming,a voice raised, blood on her hands that wasn't hers. She tells herself it's just a dream, that it happened a lifetime ago. But she remembers the smell of the iron too clearly, the silence afterwards too perfectly.
Her body shakes.she clutches the blanket like it's a shield,though it never saves her.
The shadow shifts. or maybe her mind makes them.
Then- a sound. Soft. Deliberate. From the hallway.
Her breath catches. The silence breaks.
And she knows: whatever she's been running from has found her again.