The Dream
Thump. Thump. Thump.
A heartbeat pulses in my ears—thick, heavy, suffocating. Each beat feels like it could burst through my skull. My chest tightens. I can’t tell if it’s mine or someone else’s.
Footsteps echo through the air—sharp, frantic, heels striking the marble in rapid rhythm. Clack. Clack. Clack. The sound bounces off the walls, each impact sharper than the last. The air itself vibrates with panic.
Everything around me slows, like I’ve been dropped into honey, but at the same time, it’s moving too fast—flashes of motion I can’t quite catch. It’s like I’m both inside my body and floating somewhere outside it, watching through someone else’s eyes.
I reach forward, but a veil of white mesh blocks my view. It ripples, ghostly, between me and the scene beyond. I try to push it aside, but my fingers pass through it, like it’s made of smoke.
“Nooo!”
The scream tears through the air, so raw it feels like it splits my skin open. The sound is pure agony—something no human throat should be able to make. My body reacts before my mind does: every hair on my arms stands on end, the back of my neck prickles, and goosebumps ripple across my skin like a wave.
My heart races faster. My vision blurs. I spin around, searching, but everything shifts and melts. Faces flicker in and out of existence. Shadows move, long and stretched, darting across the marble floor. I can’t tell where the scream came from—or if it’s still echoing inside me.
Then—sirens.
Faint at first, almost comforting. Then louder. Shrill. Endless. They claw at my ears, building and building until they drown out everything else. But as the sound gets closer, I feel myself drifting farther away—like the world is being pulled from my grasp.
“No! I can help! Please, don’t make me go!”
I try to scream, but it comes out broken—a rasp, a shudder, a whisper that vanishes before it reaches the air. People rush past me in a blur. Suits. Shoes. Hands. None of them see me. I push forward, desperate to reach them, but the harder I move, the faster I’m pulled back—like invisible hands are gripping my chest, dragging me away.
“Please!” I cry, my voice cracking.
I fall to my knees, clawing at the marble tiles. My acrylic nails scrape and snap, leaving pale crescent marks behind. I dig harder, desperate for something solid to hold onto. The sound of nails breaking fills my head—crack, crack, crack—but nothing stops it. I’m being pulled backward, my body sliding across the floor as the light fades.
The world narrows to the sound of my own heartbeat.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Then, darkness swallows me whole.
