Darkness
1081 Words
My body shook violently, wracked with chills that felt like whispers from death itself. The cold had crept into my bones, and every step I took felt like walking on shattered glass. My sensitive feet, bare and bruised, winced at every contact with the unseen debris littering the forest floor. Trees loomed around me like towering judges, their branches tangled like the claws of beasts waiting to pounce. The forest was alive—but not in a comforting, natural way. No, it throbbed with something sinister.
I was a girl. Alone. In a deep forest. Surrounded by nothing but darkness.
For most people, this would have been a point of no return. Some might consider ending it all—a final surrender to pain and despair. But not me. I was used to this. Life hadn’t exactly been kind. This wasn’t the first time I’d found myself abandoned by hope. But still, I walked. Or rather, staggered.
With each passing minute, the ache in my legs grew, spreading like wildfire through my limbs. I couldn’t tell if it was the cold or the cuts or the exhaustion. Probably all three. My head spun. My vision blurred. The pain became unbearable, but I refused to stop. Something—anything—had to be waiting on the other side of this nightmare.
Then I saw it. A shadow.
Not one cast by a tree or a trick of the moonlight. No. This moved. This breathed.
It didn’t look like an animal. It didn’t move like a person. It was something else. My heart slammed against my ribcage, trying to escape. My knees buckled. And just like that, everything went black.
---
I could hear my heart pounding—loud, uneven, desperate. It was strange. Wasn’t death supposed to be peaceful? Wasn’t everything supposed to go quiet?
But here I was, very much alive, and aware of the thumping drum in my chest. I blinked and blinked again. White. Everywhere. Endless, blinding white.
Had I made it to heaven?
The thought came uninvited, absurd even, but in that moment, it felt real. This glowing place—so still, so bright—looked nothing like the pain-filled world I’d just escaped.
"She's awake."
The voice was soft but startled me nonetheless. I turned toward it—and froze. She was beautiful, glowing even, like the stories of angels I'd once read in storybooks. But something didn’t add up. She had no wings. Her skin wasn’t like mine. She looked human. Too human.
“Why don’t you have wings?” I asked, my voice hoarse. “Did God take them away?”
Her eyes widened in surprise before her expression melted into amusement. Another woman joined her and whispered, “Emily, does the painkiller have any unknown side effects, or did you give her anesthesia?” They both burst out laughing.
I felt my cheeks warm. Oh. Oh no.
I wasn’t dead.
This wasn’t heaven.
This was… a room. A bedroom? It was beautifully furnished, filled with the scent of lavender and the sight of luxury—closets lined with clothes, a vanity with elegant brushes, polished floors that reflected the light from a chandelier above.
Definitely not a hospital.
I sat up slowly, observing everything like I was in someone else's dream. Then the stench hit me. My own scent—sweat, blood, forest grime. I reeked. Shame crept up my spine like fire.
I found the bathroom and let the warm water wash away the evidence of the nightmare. The bathtub was scented—vanilla and rose—and I stayed there longer than I probably should have. I scrubbed until I was raw. But when I emerged, wrapped in a thick white robe, I smelled like myself again. Familiar. Clean. Human.
On a small table sat a plate of food, untouched. I devoured it like a woman starved. Which, to be fair, I was. I must have drifted off shortly after because the next thing I knew, darkness had fallen beyond the windows.
I stirred groggily and sat up, startled to see my robe had slipped lower than appropriate. Blushing, I readjusted it and found some clothes folded nearby. With cautious curiosity, I dressed in a soft cream blouse and black pants that hugged my legs. Simple, but they fit well. Someone had planned this.
I tiptoed out of the room, unsure of what to expect. The hallway was long, lined with expensive art and soft carpets. The kind of hallway you’d only see in palaces or billionaire estates. Was I dreaming?
Then came the whispers. Hushed, giggly, and cruel.
“OMG! I think she’s going to replace Bianca.”
“Of course she will—she’s even prettier.”
“Her face is gorgeous, and her body is beyond thickness.”
“Maybe Sir Francis wants to marry her to escape Bianca. Since his mom is forcing him.”
Their voices rang behind me like echoes from school corridors—gossipy, shallow, relentless. I shrank under their words and considered returning to the safety of the room, but a voice—sharp, masculine, and commanding—stopped me cold.
“Seems you’re well.”
I turned slowly.
There he stood.
Tall. Dark-haired. Sharp-jawed. Eyes like coal yet strangely captivating. He looked like a painting come to life—flawless, composed, powerful.
I was frozen. Not from fear, but from shock. Maybe even awe.
“If you stare too much,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “you might go blind.”
I snapped out of it. “Uhm… sorry. I was… I just… I was grateful and didn’t know how to thank you.”
He studied me for a moment before his face softened. “Don’t worry. It’s okay.”
He hesitated. There was something he wanted to ask—why I was in the forest, perhaps—but he said nothing. He remembered something. A warning? Advice?
“Mom,” he suddenly said, turning as a woman entered the room.
She was regal, refined. Dressed in elegance and class.
“Francis,” she smiled, embracing him.
Francis. So that was his name.
Then her gaze fell on me.
“May I know who you are?” she asked, her tone polite but measured.
I panicked.
My mouth moved faster than my brain.
“I’m Francis’ girlfriend.”
The silence was deafening. Francis blinked. His mother stared at me as if I’d grown horns.
Oh. My. God.
What did I just do?
- Writer
