PASCAL
Darkness pressed against me.
Not the kind that comes with sleep, but the heavy, suffocating kind that seeps under your skin, filling every corner of your mind until you forget what light feels like.
The sound of rain faded. The hum of the storm became something else, muffled voices, a metallic clink, the echo of my own breathing bouncing off unseen walls.
My hands twitched. I felt the faint drag of something cold against my wrists. A memory, not real, but still too close.
Then silence. Complete, terrifying silence.
I tried to move, but the darkness swallowed everything. The air grew thinner, and the pounding of my heart drowned out the rest.
“Please…”
The voice that escaped me wasn’t the man I was now. It was smaller. Younger. Helpless.
And then the door creaked. Light, too
