The darkness swallowed me whole, deeper and colder than I thought possible. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. The metallic taste of panic lodged in the back of my throat as my nails—torn and bleeding—clawed at the coffin lid above me. Dirt poured through the cracks, cool and gritty against my fingers. My nails kept breaking more and more as I scratched and screamed, my voice raw and ragged, but no one answered.
I was buried alive.
The air thinned progressively with every terrified gasp, my chest heaving as I struggled against the crushing weight of the earth. My mind was a jumbled mess of dread and fury.
Fury at Darius.
Fury at myself.
And dread that this would be the end. Forgotten. Trapped. Alone.
A loud banging sound tore through the suffocating silence, jolting me out of the n
