01- Nightmare Life
01- Nightmare Life
What we see is always the truth we witness... โ Sezen~
The water is no longer coldโ It is nothing. Darkness wraps all around her, thick, and suffocating, an endless void pressing in from every side. Canโt see, canโt move.
Arms hung lifeless by the sides, legs suspended as though bound by invisible chains. The world has dissolved into this endless black, and within it she is weightless, adrift yet utterly trapped.
Her lungs scream for air, but thereโs none, instead the water fills her as she attempts to breathe, heavy and unrelenting. It isnโt just the absence of air that claws at herโ It is the Silence.
A silence so profound it is deafening, ringing in her ears and drowning out her every thought. And then, as if to mock her solitude, the voice began.
It isnโt loud or threateningโIt is calm, deliberate, and chilling, as it always is. A voice close to her, belonging to someone older, someone who has always been there from the start, someone familiar yet impossible to identify.
It echoes all around her, each word hazily ricocheting through the emptiness, slowly crumbling before she can catch its meaning.
The unclear phrase loops endlessly, growing louder, sharper, and more insistent in the darkness, as if the void itself has come alive to remind of her helplessness.
Her heart, though slowing with each passing second, seems to race with dread at the sound. She canโt pinpoint from where the voice comesโ It is everywhere.
She opens her mouth to scream, to shout for it to stop, but no sound comes. Only the weight of water fills her up, and she feels herself sinking deeper in the void.
She isnโt sure anymore whether it is the water suffocating her or the piercing voice which is growing louder with each passing second.
The darkness around her seems to be swallowing her whole. Her limbs no longer belong to her, and her body is not even herโ It is a vessel sinking into oblivion.
She waits for panic, for terror to take over, but something else creeps in: a numb acceptance.
Accepting that there is no escape from this cruel condition, and that the ruthless voice has become nothing but an unintelligible noise, always finding its way to haunt her, with words she feels familiar with yet cannot decipher.
What are those words even trying to tell her or prove to her?
Is it this big of concern for her to decipher them?
Her eyelids remain rigidly open, unable to shut as if something forces them, but surrounded by nothingness.
Silence returns when the sound fadesโcomplete, unyielding, engulfing her in the eternal void.
"Guh!"
With a sharp intake of breath, she jolts awake, her chest heaving. Each breath escaped her lips shallowly and her forehead slick with cold sweat.
The echo of her dreams still clinging to her like a shadow.
The whole room is dark, the only faint light of the dawn coming through the window lit the room which is on the wall, where her study table is placed.
Her head snaps to her right at the sound from that window side, but nothing to be seen. Maybe her apprehension. Olive curtains are fluttering in a smooth, suggesting a gale outside as the cold air comes inside, hitting through them and filling the room with a fresh and raw smell of early morning.
But her heart doesn't accept, a hint of uncertainty in it as she remembers that it was half closed last night when she saw before sleeping, but now completely opened. She looks at the other window on the wall in front of her bedโs footboard, but it was closed, completely covered with the same color curtains.
When she finds nothing for her harm around her after looking at every corner of her room, she tilts her head back over the headboard, taking deep breaths and calming herself.
But to her dread, she flinches at the sudden, familiar sound from her nightmare which is echoing through her room.
Her breath hitches at the noise; she closes her eyes, clenching her jaw as tears flow from the corner of her closed eyes. Her heart clenches in pain, her breath bated as she slowly turns her head toward the source of the sound.
It was the shrilling noise of her alarm clock.
Seeing that it is just her alarm clock, she leaves a relieved sob.
โThe first thing she should do is to throw this clock away.โ
She stretches her trembling hand, switching off the alarm with a jerk.
The terror of her nightmare is still making her heart thumping furiously inside her chest like it will come out at any second of her ribcage.
She hugs her knees to chest, burying her face in it and clutches her hair in frustration as her sobs turn more painful by the second.
Again.
Why again?
The same scenario is stuck with her like a leech which is sucking her sanity like blood.
Mira walks down the stairs with hurried steps, wearing baggy black cargo pants, a loose light grey sweatshirt and white sneakers along with them. Her short, rough wolf cut hair, parting from middle, bounces with her each step.
All ready for the first day of her final year in university.
To the left of the downstairs, a few steps walking inside, she enters the kitchen, greeted by the faint aroma of coffeeโevidence that someone had been there not too long ago.
An off white and olive contrast aesthetic in all over the kitchen. A small table with four chairs, two on either side set in the middle.
Itโs not necessarily in use, not all four for two people but still, it just looks good with four chairs around it.
On the left side behind a set of chairs, an off white worktop with an olive base and wall cabinets, a double door refrigerator placed on one corner while the sink on another.
On the right an off white dining room hutch stood tall, leaning straight with the wall and a ferns plant beside it, behind the other set of chairsโ a sharing wall with the living room.
And the third wall in between them has two sliding doors, connecting the kitchen to a small lawn and another way to lead to the living room.
While sitting on the dining table, her eyes caught the sight of a note beside the plate, pressed half under the glass of juice.
To my sweet Mirae,
Your lunch is in the fridge, heat that when you eat and finish your breakfast as well.
Iโll try to make something better next time.
Take Care Lots of Love -Ma.
Mira hurriedly chews the toast and omelette on the plate, then lifts the lid from the glass of juice and drinks it in one go.
As if it doesnโt affect her, having the same breakfast every day.
But It really doesnโt.
Her mother rarely have time because of her working hours schedule. Mira can make food for herself as well but when she said this to her mom, she replied โAfter me you have to eat your own handmade food, so let me make for now.โ
And after getting this as a response she couldnโt been able to make a word in retort. So after all of this Mira canโt blame her mom for a plain breakfast or lunch. Can she?
As a single mother, holding up with everything is already not easy for her. At least her mom manages to give her food on timeโthatโs enough for her.
Itโs not like she is a single mother from the start, everything was too good when her father was there, they were a complete family surrounded by happiness until that one cursed day came in their life and her father left them.
After him, theyโve just been surviving. Not everything is badโitโs fine, all fine, or maybe close to fine.
Her mother is handling everything, her upbringing, her education, giving her a fine life with all necessities just like she had everything before.
But one thing was added to their life; struggles and one less; happiness.
This is the kind of nightmare they are living in their life.
Each other step gets more stiff than the previous one as she hurries toward the bus stand, not wanting to miss the busโuntil some audible whispers bring her steps to a halt.
โLook, the shameless prick is in a hurry againโ a lady says, loud enough so Mira can hear her. โ An unfortunate curse on the poor Ashwyn family,โ she scoffs, further adding with amusement.
She smirks, seeing that her words somewhat leave an effect on Mira.
People really do have that shit of annoying habit, getting on other peopleโs arse by talking about any event from their past.
Isnโt it?
โIf there had been a person with even a little shame, then she would have died by now with shame for devouring her fatherโs life and becoming a burden on her poor lonely mother.โ
Specifically a worst event.
Another lady beside the before one mocks, giving narrowed side eyes towards Mira, disgustingly.
Miraโs blood boils at their ugly words. Her eyes burn red with anger and unshed tears.
โCโmon mind your own business.โ
How can someone not be willing to slam those ladiesโ heads on this concrete road, and smash their faces under her sneakers heel until nothing left. But the remnants of their ugly flesh, smudging over the road.
But does she want it?
No. Because to her, what they said isnโt completely wrong after all and this is what hurts her more.
She curls her fingers into a fist and runs with her full might without caring about anything around her. Her vision stays blurry until she sees the bus ahead already moving, and she runs after it.
โPlease, stop...โ Her voice chokes as she fights back tears, shouting for the bus to stopโbut all in vain.
The bus was already out of her reachโjust like peace since this morning, or rather, since her father died.
Fate has its cruel hand over her, pulling the thread around her so tight, leaving barely enough room for her to breath, deepening the despair of her endless fight.
She wipes her eyes harshly with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, clearing her vision, and watches the bus leave with a heavy heart.
Itโs all because of her fate that this is happening to her after all.
That's all for the chapterโจ
Happy reading Kara๐ธ
