Her Last words

The storm was relentless that night, shaking the windows like it wanted to break in. I was walking home when I saw her—her hair the color of midnight rain, plastered against her face, and her blue dress clinging to her pale skin. She looked… fragile. And terrified.

I ran to her. “Are you okay?” I asked, my voice almost drowned by the wind. She didn’t answer. Her lips moved, whispering something so soft I couldn’t hear it. I leaned closer.

“Don’t…” she said. That was all. Just one word, but it carried a weight I couldn’t understand at the time.

Then she fell silent. Forever.

The days after her death were unbearable. Her last words haunted me, replaying in my mind every time I closed my eyes. At first, I thought it was guilt—maybe I could have saved her. But soon… I realized it wasn’t meant for me.

Strange things began happening. Shadows moved in rooms that should have been empty. Doors opened and closed on their own. And whispers—her whispers—scratched through the silence, repeating that single word: “Don’t.”

I started investigating, looking for answers in her life. That’s when I discovered them—the people she was trying to warn. They were dangerous. They weren’t finished with her… and now, they knew I had heard her last words too.

I should have left it alone. I should have ignored the storm, ignored the shadows, ignored her warning. But curiosity is a cruel thing, and I needed to understand.

What she didn’t tell me… was that understanding her words would put me in the same danger she tried to escape.