The opening up
540 Words
Lila had always been the girl who laughed easily, who filled the house with the soft clatter of dishes as she snuck extra servings from the pot, who hummed while brushing her hair. But over the days that followed, something inside her seemed to dim. The change was slow at first, then startlingly clear.
Her dreams were no longer just dreams. They were too vivid, too sharp, too real.
Every night she stood in the forest again, but this time the wolf moved closer. She felt his breath against her cheek. She heard the heartbeat that was not hers. She felt the earth beneath her feet, cold and alive, pulsing like it recognized her. When she woke, the scent of pine still clung to her clothes. The whisper of leaves still rang in her ears.
Sleep left her more exhausted than waking.
During the day she struggled to focus. Her mind drifted without warning. Sometimes she would freeze mid-step, staring at nothing, replaying pieces of the dreams she could not escape. The world around her felt too loud and too quiet at the same time. A pot boiling. A door closing. Her father’s cough. They all echoed like strikes against her temples.
Food no longer tasted like anything. She used to love eating, used to sneak bread from the kitchen and laugh when her mother pretended not to notice. Now she barely touched her meals. Her mother’s stew sat untouched. Her father watched her with fear he tried to hide.
She felt herself unraveling, thread by thread.
One afternoon, after waking from yet another dream that left her shaking, Lila sat on the edge of her bed and pressed her hands to her face. She could no longer pretend she was fine. She could no longer lie to herself. Something was happening to her, and she was terrified of facing it alone.
A heavy breath escaped her.
She needed someone to talk to. She needed her parents, even if she could not explain everything. If she kept this inside any longer, she feared she would break in ways she could not fix.
She stood slowly and descended the stairs. Sunlight filtered through the window, but it felt pale and distant. Her mother and father were seated at the small wooden table, speaking in low voices. They looked up when they heard her footsteps.
Her mother’s eyes softened the moment she saw her face.
“Lila,” she whispered, already rising from her chair.
Her father’s forehead creased with worry.
Lila swallowed hard. Her throat ached with everything she had held back these past days. Her hands trembled, and her mother reached out to steady her, guiding her gently into a chair.
“What is it, sweetheart?” her mother asked.
Lila looked between them, her heart pounding. She opened her mouth once, closed it, then finally let the words fall out.
“Something is happening to me,” she said softly. “I don’t know what it is. But I can’t keep pretending I’m alright.”
Her mother took her hand. Her father leaned forward, listening with a heaviness that made her chest tighten.
Lila drew a breath, steadying herself.
“It started the night I saw the wolf.”
- Writer
