prologe
The clock on the wall ticked steadily, each second stretching into an eternity. The room was a sanctuary of calm by design: muted beige walls, soft lighting, and the faint aroma of lavender that clung to the air. But to Elena Cruz, the tranquility felt oppressive. She adjusted her glasses and glanced at her notes, though she hardly needed them. Gabriel’s file was etched into her memory—a patchwork of cryptic diagnoses, failed treatments, and one troubling detail: his voice.
“Dr. Cruz?” Gabriel’s voice cut through the silence like a scalpel. He sat across from her, hands clasped tightly in his lap, knuckles white against his tanned skin. His dark eyes, intense and unwavering, seemed to pull at something deep within her. “Do you hear her?”
Elena stiffened. “Hear who, Gabriel?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.
“The woman,” he said softly, his voice laced with an eerie certainty. “She says your name. Elena.”
Her heart skipped a beat, but her face betrayed nothing. Years of practice had taught her how to mask surprise, to maintain an air of control even when her own mind threatened to falter.
“That’s interesting,” she said, scribbling a note in the margin of her pad. “Can you describe her?”
Gabriel’s lips curved into a faint smile—a smile that unsettled her. “You already know her,” he murmured. “She’s you.”
The words hung in the air, a quiet bomb detonating in the space between them. For the first time, Elena’s composure wavered. Her pen hovered over the page, frozen. The sound of the clock ticking grew louder, each tick a drumbeat of something she couldn’t name. Something she didn’t want to name.
“Why do you think that?” she managed, her voice a careful imitation of calm.
Gabriel leaned forward, his eyes burning with an intensity that made her feel exposed. “Because she told me. She said you’d help me remember. And when you do, you’ll remember too.”
A shiver crept down Elena’s spine. She forced a smile, though it felt brittle. “That’s enough for today,” she said, closing her notebook with deliberate precision. “We’ll continue next session.”
Gabriel nodded, rising from his chair without protest. But as he turned to leave, he paused at the door, his hand resting on the frame. “Don’t ignore the whispers, Elena,” he said without looking back. “They’re trying to save you.”
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Elena alone with the sound of her own heartbeat thundering in her ears. She sat motionless, staring at the empty chair where Gabriel had been.
In the silence, she thought she heard it—a faint, almost imperceptible whisper. Her name.
And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or something far more terrifying.
