Page 21 of Shattered Echoes

Chest heaving, I glance over my shoulder, only to find him nearly upon me, his eyes burning with an animalistic hate. My foot catches on a twisted root, and I pitch forward, slamming into the damp loam with a bruising force. I scramble to rise, to keep running, but his iron grip seizes my ankle, wrenching me back against the forest floor.

"No!" I cry out, finally finding my voice as I thrash against his hold. "Get away from me!"

But he only leers down, his fetid breath hot against my face as he leans close. Pulling a hunting knife from the sheath on his belt, his eyes glint with a sadistic glee as the blade's wicked edge presses against the soft vulnerability of my throat.

I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for the killing stroke.

An insistent, rhythmic beeping pierces the veil of my sleep, dragging me back to a world painted in shades of icy dread. The sound reaches deep into my subconscious, faintly at first, and then as loud as a train.

I slam my hand down on the offending nightstand clock, silencing the shrill alarm but failing to quell the disquiet churning in my gut.

My eyes pop open with a strangled gasp, my sheets twisted around my body in a cold, damp tangle. I jump into a seated position, chest heaving as I gulp down cold, precious air. My trembling fingers explore my neck, finding no wound but only cold perspiration.

I close my eyes. Another night. Another vivid, soul-crushing nightmare.

The fragmented images still flicker behind my closed eyelids–the towering, skeletal trees of a strange forest, the relentless pursuit, the glint of a hunting knife reflecting a maniacal look in my ex-husband's eyes. The raw terror of his accusations hangs heavy in the air, a suffocating shroud threatening to steal my breath.

Wrapping my arms around my knees, I shudder and try to regain my composure. The shadows can't hurt me here, I know that… and yet, the dregs of the nightmare cling to me like a second skin, making my home feel like enemy territory.

Wiping the cold sweat from my brow, I throw back the covers and stumble out of bed. My legs wobble for a moment, the remnants of terror clinging to me like cobwebs. My sanctuary has morphed into a battleground where I relive horrifying scenes night after relentless night.

There's no point in trying to go back to sleep. I need an escape, a connection to something real and grounding. Grabbing my jacket, I head out into the cool morning air, letting my feet guide me down familiar paths into the forest surrounding Shadow's Bend.

The air carries the earthy scent of damp soil and pine needles, a familiar fragrance that usually brings a sense of comfort. Today, however, it mingles with the lingering echoes of the nightmare.

As I walk deeper into the woods, my eyes become accustomed to the gloom in the dense canopy, a violet sky above, visible in patches. My legs work on their own accord, carrying me through a path I’ve walked through a thousand times.

A rustle in the undergrowth sends a jolt through me, my hand instinctively reaching for something that isn't there. It's just a squirrel, I tell myself, forcing my body and mind to relax.

Every sound, every flicker of movement, seems like a potential threat. Not really the smartest thing to do… taking a walk in a dark forest after the nightmare you just had. Not smart at all.

The path ahead opens up into a clearing, and a wave of bittersweet nostalgia washes over me. This used to be my haven, my secret sanctuary, during my childhood. Here, I could just get lost in nature. Those were simpler days.

Technically, it wasn’t just me coming up here and exploring these woods. Henry and the Amato kids as well. I never really fit in with the group, but I never tried to fit in. And Antonio… God, he used to be so freaking annoying.

I used to enjoy the company, though, and looking back, I wonder if I could have done more to create a better bond with the others. It’s pointless thinking about that now, though.

I make my way through the old forest, relying on muscle memory. It’s been over a decade since I walked through these woods, and a lot has changed since then. And yet, it still feels the same somehow.

I recognize many sights. A massive oak with a creek running beside it. The strange purple flowers that hang down like a curtain from deep green vines. Somewhere to the west, there’s a sturdy dam built by a family of beavers.

I remember the boys playing with stick swords, building forts, chasing rodents through the undergrowth. They were unlikely hobbies from a bunch of rich kids, but what else was there to do in this town?

Something burns inside me as I replay the vivid memories. Laughter and camaraderie seem like relics from an ancient era. Squinting into the darkness, I almost expect to see them materialize–four carefree souls, their faces flush with youthful innocence.

Pushing away the ache of longing, I continue my trek, the forest floor crunching beneath my boots. The scent of wildflowers fills my nose, pulling me back to the present. There, nestled amongst the ferns, blooms a cluster of delicate bluebells.

I bend down to pluck a single flower, its fragile petals cool and soft against my fingertips. Curious, I walk up to the tree closest to the bed of bluebells and inspect the trunk slowly.

It’s still there after all these years. Etched into the bark of the tree are four sets of entwined initials–L.A.C.H. We marked several trees just like this, but this one is most familiar to me. It was on the path to our favorite spot.

The sight of it brings a lump to my throat. Leonardo, married and far away. Antonio, a ghost of his former self. Henry, the only one who remains a constant, with his unwavering support, being the only anchor in this storm of loss and trauma.

And me? What about me? What have I become?

With a sigh, I pocket the bluebell and press on. The clearing soon gives way to denser woods, the path narrowing and twisting beneath the weight of the ancient trees.

The air turns cool and damp, the oppressive silence broken only by the occasional chirp of a bird or the rustle of unseen creatures. There's a strange sense of solace, a feeling of being enveloped by something bigger, something older than my pain.

---