Page 53 of Tormented By Regret

He had dark brown hair and wore glasses over deep brown eyes. He had a cynical look in his eye, as if he knew, even back then, what he was capable of.

“Do you recognize him?” Hoax asked softly.

I shook my head. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

“If you do, Whisper. Run,” he added as we both looked at his image. I wished I could have told him it was already too late.

I spent the entire day avoiding my brother and Lee. I couldn’t look them in the eyes without bursting into tears. I was desperate to find my mother and I felt anxious as fear settled into my heart. I didn’t have to wait long to find out where she was. A few hours later, I received a text with the location of our meeting. Attached was an image that brought me to tears. Silently, I cried, pressing my hand to my mouth to stifle any sound that might give me away. The image was of my mother in her white nightgown, sitting in an old wooden rocking chair, staring blankly into space.

At that moment, I made my decision. I had to go to her. I couldn't wait, and I couldn't bear the thought of her getting hurt. The fear and urgency propelled me into action. I wiped away my tears, trying to steady my breathing. Every second felt like an eternity, but I knew I had to keep it together.

When Lee approached me, I’d lied to him, blaming my emotions on my raven. I then grabbed my jacket and slipped out quietly, hoping Lee wouldn't notice my absence. My heart pounded as I sneaked down to the main road and waited for the driver, I’d called to pick me up. The instructions were to be dropped off at the corner of Hudson and walk the remaining way. With each step I took towards the meeting place. The image of my mother in that rocking chair haunted me, fueling my resolve. I couldn't let anything happen to her.

As I made my way through the dark streets, my mind raced with thoughts of what lay ahead. I had no idea what to expect, but I knew one thing for certain—I would do whatever it took to protect my family. The closer I got to the location, the more my fear intensified, but so did my determination.

An old hospital loomed in the darkness; its towering silhouette barely visible. My steps were slow and cautious, as fear tightened around my chest like a vice. Hargrave's threats echoed in my mind, a sinister reminder of what was at stake.

I moved through the decaying grounds, the air thick with the scent of rot and neglect. Every sound seemed amplified: the crunch of broken glass beneath my shoes, the distant creak of metal swaying in the wind, the faint rustle of leaves that made me jump at shadows. TI had nothing, just my heightened senses and Lee’s gun which I’d found in his bag. The rising sense of dread was the only thing I had to guide me.

As I reached the entrance, a door barely hanging on its hinges, I hesitated. The blackness beyond felt like an abyss, swallowing any light and hope. With my heartbeat practically thumping out of my chest, I pushed the door open with a loud, grating squeal. Inside, the darkness was even more oppressive, the air colder.

I forced myself to take a step inside, then another, the sound of my footsteps echoing down the long, empty corridor. The walls seemed to close in around me, the ceiling pressing down. I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, a prickling sensation at the back of my neck. I turned, aiming the gun at the darkness, expecting a monster to reveal itself at any moment.

"Come on, Whisper," I muttered to myself, trying to summon courage from somewhere deep inside. I kept moving, feeling my way along the damp, crumbling walls. Every so often, I thought I heard something—a whisper, a footstep—but when I turned, there was nothing. Just darkness and silence.

Then, out of nowhere, a hand clamped over my mouth, silencing my scream before it could escape. Another arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me back against a solid chest. The gun went off, and then just as quickly knocked out of my hand, getting lost somewhere in the darkness, Panic exploded inside me, my heart thundering as I struggled against the iron grip.

"Don't move," a voice hissed in my ear, low and menacing. "Or she dies.”

My body went rigid, the terror rooting me to the spot. The killer's breath was hot against my skin, the smell of cigarettes and something metallic invading my senses. I could hear his breathing, steady and controlled, contrasting sharply with my own frantic gasps.

"Good girl," he whispered, his grip tightening. "Now, you're going to do exactly as I say. Understand?"

I nodded, and he dragged me down the dark recesses of the abandoned building. I tripped on a metal object and tumbled to the ground. He had no mercy and I screamed as he grabbed me by the hair, yanking me harshly over the broken glass and broken wood that lay on the floor around us. I cried out as something sharp jabbed me on the side, and he finally turned back to look at me.

Blood had seeped through my white tank top, and I could feel, more than see, something poking through my skin.

"Goddammit," he growled, yanking the item from my side. I sobbed from the pain that became a dull throb as I flung my hand over the wound. He flipped the sharp piece of wood in front of my eyes.

"Too soon for stab wounds," he gave me an eerie smile and out of pure terror, I screamed. I scrambled out of his grasp, digging my fingernails into the molded walls as I tried to get away, screaming at the top of my lungs and praying someone would hear me.

His hands grabbed at my ankles, and he dragged me back toward him. I shielded my stomach, flipping back around and kicking him in the face. He grunted and got down to crouch over me.

I fought him as hard as I could, shoving at his eyes with my nails, biting him where I could. And then something heavy and hard hit my head. I fought to see what it was, and it hit again, forcing me into darkness.

When I awoke, I was lying on the cold tile floor, in the middle of a hospital room. In the far corner sat a chair, and the silhouette of my mother sat staring back at me.

“Mom,” I reached out to her and immediately hissed from the pain on my side. When I looked down, he had taped my side up with duct tape to stop the bleeding. But I was in a lot of pain.

You need to shift, baby.

I stared up at my mother’s form, shocked from the sound of her voice that was filling my head.

The raven’s powers are healing. Shift.

Shift. The raven cawed over her voice, and I closed my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I focused on the familiar pull inside me. The world around me began to blur as my body contorted, feathers replacing flesh, bones reshaping, shrinking. The pain in my side subsided as the power of the shift healed and closed my wound. In seconds, I was airborne, the rush of wind beneath my wings momentarily liberating.

But the freedom was short-lived. Out of nowhere, darkness came over me, and the raven squawked in panic, its wings beating furiously against the confines of the fabric. I was pulled down to the ground with a harsh thud. My heart raced as I struggled, my beak and claws useless against the heavy confines. His voice echoed in the hollow space, dripping with malice.

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