FAYE
I don’t know how long I cried.
Time didn’t move the way it should have. It stretched and folded in on itself, minutes dissolving into something shapeless and dull. At some point, my throat burned, and my chest ached from the force of it.
I lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling without really seeing it.
And then it hit me.
This was it.
This was what I had seen.
It wasn’t just fear… not paranoia. Not my mind spiraling. The vision had been too clear for that. Too sharp. I remembered it now with terrifying precision.
I felt a sudden weight in my chest, a hollow ache.
I had felt the loss before it happened.
My throat tightened as the truth settled, heavy and undeniable. It hadn’t been my imagination. It hadn’t been anxiety or stress or some cruel trick of instinct.
