Chapter 4 – Storm at Sea
1292 Words
It began with a hum beneath her skin.
Jane lay curled on her side, half-wrapped in a scratchy blanket, the institutional white sheets bunched at her feet. The room buzzed like always—lights overhead, pipes in the walls, the faint murmur of something broken behind the vents. But this… this was something different.
It wasn’t sound.
It was pressure.
A tremble in her bones.
Her fingertips twitched against the mattress. The fluorescent lights above her flickered once, then steadied. Her eyes opened to the ceiling—the cracks she knew by heart—and yet, somehow, they looked different now. Sharper. More pronounced. Like she was seeing a different layer of light. Her eyebrows furrowed in both confusion and amazement. Was this a side effect of the new meds?
The storm had been building all day.
Not just in her. Outside.
Thick gray clouds had gathered above the hospital like a lid, pressing down on the building. Nurses whispered about it. The shift in air. The way the birds had gone silent by morning. Jane herself could feel the pressure building in her ears.
Now, in the late afternoon light, the sky was bruised purple. The trees beyond the barred window bent under the first whips of wind. And thunder rolled—not sharp cracks, but low, endless growls that seemed to vibrate through the floor tiles. The glass windows and jug beside her bed rattled in response to the low growling thunder.
She shivered.
Not from the cold.
Her blood felt hot. Her skin, tight. Like something under it was shifting—turning over in its sleep. It almost felt like a fever coming on, her bones themselves seemed to ache.
A knock came.
She didn’t answer, she just tucked further into herself.
The door opened anyway.
Nurse Shelley, in her usual pink scrubs, stepped inside holding the small white paper cup with her evening dose.
“Storm’s a nasty one,” she said casually. “Gonna knock the power out if it keeps up.”
Jane didn’t move, she didn't know if she could.
Shelley stepped closer.
“C’mon now, hon. You know the routine.”
But Jane stared up at the cup. Her hands didn’t lift.
Something in her stomach twisted violently. A sudden wave of nausea. Her head spun—not in fear, but something else. Something like rejection. Like her body was screaming no.
“I’m not taking them,” she said in a low voice, turning back away.
Shelley blinked. “Excuse me?”
Jane shut her eyes hard in irritation.
“I said I’m not taking them.”
Shelley frowned, setting the cup on the tray beside her bed. “You know that’s not how this works, sweetie. If you refuse, I have to report it.”
Jane sat up. Slowly, her eyes now locking onto the nurse. Her blanket dropped to her lap.
“Then report it.”
The nurse’s eyes narrowed, taking a timid step back “You’re not well. This helps you.”
“No,” Jane whispered through clenched teeth. “It numbs me. There’s a difference.”
Before Shelley could respond, the window rattled violently behind them. Both turned toward it instinctively. Rain lashed against the glass like claws. The power flickered once, briefly plunging them into dim gray light.
A growl built in Jane’s throat.
She didn’t mean to.
Shelley turned back sharply, a little thrown off and honestly spooked. Jane had always been one of the more subdued patients. This wasn't like her.
“Don’t you start that,” she said, her voice clipped now. “You’ve been doing better, Jane. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
Jane’s hands gripped the blanket. Her fingernails dug into the wool. Her whole body felt like it was vibrating, echoing the energy outside.
Shelley reached for her arm.
And Jane moved.
Too fast.
Too sharp.
A snarl tore from her lips as she jerked away, baring her teeth—not in rage, but in instinct. Her hand flew up before she knew what she was doing, nails grazing Shelley’s wrist with startling precision, knocking the cup into the air.
Both of them froze.
Jane’s breath hitched.
The nurse staggered back, cradling her arm. No real damage—but blood beaded along the scratch.and a bit of shock Her face pale, eyes wide.
“Okay,” she said, stepping back toward the door. “Okay." I’m going to let Dr. Meyers know.”
Jane didn’t respond,
She sat trembling now, her hands still half-clawed, breath shallow.
The little paper cup and pills scattered across the floor.
When the door clicked shut behind the nurse, silence fell like a sheet.
Her vision blurred. The world swayed.
She stumbled to the sink and splashed cold water on her face, gripping the porcelain. She met her own gaze in the mirror—wide, startled, pupils blown wide.
There was someone else looking back.
Not another face.
Just another... presence.
She shook her head, breaking the stare with her unknown reflection and stumbled to her bed.
That night, they didn’t sedate her.
They let her sit in her bed, quiet and watched through the slot in the metal door.
And when sleep finally came, it came fast and hard.
In the dream, the waves were already roaring, splashing high and running upshore.
The sea was wild tonight — salt and foam biting at the wind. The red-haired woman stood barefoot in the sand, net and pearls clinging to her body, her silver moon-crown gleaming brighter than ever.
But this time, she wasn’t alone.
Behind her, in the swirling mist, a dark shape stirred.
At first, it was one wolf — sleek, powerful, black as the sea at midnight. It padded forward, eyes glowing faintly gold.
Then, without a sound, it split in two.
One wolf stepped to the woman’s right — smaller, leaner, with sharper ears and storm-gray eyes that pierced through the fog like a blade.
The other turned to her left — broader-shouldered, calmer in its stride. Its eyes shimmered amber, and as it stepped forward, closer to Jane than anything in any of her dreams before, something in her chest cracked open.
She didn’t know why…
But she knew it was coming for her.
She didn’t know its name, but she knew she felt something familiar about its presence.
The smaller wolf, the one that had always been in her dream, prowled behind the goddess, weaving back and forth, impatient, low whines rolling from its throat. It never took its eyes off her, but didn't seem to be able to come forward like the bigger one had. as though stuck behind an invisible shield.
The red-haired woman turned to Jane, lips moving — slow and deliberate.
But still, no sound came.
Nothing. Not even the crash of waves. Not even her own breath.
Jane leaned forward in the dream, desperate to hear. Her fingers reached toward the goddess, toward the wolves.
Her own original wolf from her dreams gave a single, sharp bark — frustrated. Waiting.
The air buzzed around her like a live wire. She felt everything and nothing all at once. Like her skin was too tight for what lived inside.
The red-haired woman lifted her hand — beckoning — her expression both sorrowful and certain.
And then…
Jane’s eyes snapped open.
The glass is still rattling from the sharp snap of thunder.
She was slick with sweat, heart hammering, breath shallow. Her sheets tangled around her legs like seaweed.
The storm outside still rumbled, low and steady.
But inside?
Inside, something was rising.
Something that would not be silenced much longer.
No matter how many little paper cups with pills they gave her.
- Writer
