Page 29 of Ruthless Regret

“Jason?” My voice trembles.

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are fixed on me. The knife in his hand catches the moonlight as he climbs through the window and stands just inside my bedroom. The blood on his body drips onto the floor, pooling at his feet. He reaches for me again, and I shake my head.

“No. No. This isn’t real.”

He takes another step toward me, and his expression hardens as he lifts the knife. I throw out one hand, and his face changes again.

The blood on his skin fades, and his features blur, shifting into someone else. Someone else I know.

Zain.

Eyes cold, his lips twisting into a cruel smile, he comes toward me. He raises the knife high above his head.

“You thought you could get away from me? You thought you could run?” His voice is low, filled with malice. “You’ll never be free of me.”

I try to scream, but the sound won’t come. I’m paralyzed, trapped, as he comes closer. The knife flashes in the moonlight as he swings it toward me …

… I wake up screaming.

My eyes snap open, my body jerking upright in bed. My heart is racing, throwing itself hard against my ribs, and I sit there, gasping for breath, shaking, cold, but drenched in sweat.

Was it real?

No, it was just a dream.

But it felt so real.

I untangle myself from the sheets, and stand, my body still shaking as I walk toward the window. I hesitate as I reach for the curtain, Jason’s face floating in front of my eyes.

It was just a nightmare!

I pull the curtain open.

Nothing. There’s nothing there.

The street outside is quiet, empty. The window is intact. No shattered glass. No blood. No knife. There’s no one standing outside watching me.

It was just a bad dream.

But the fear is still there. I press my forehead against the glass, trying to slow the rapid beat of my heart.

Jason isn’t here. Zain isn’t here.

But the dream felt too vivid. Too real. The image of Jason, his body covered in blood, his eyes so empty, won’t leave me.

It’s like he’s still here. Like the pain of losing him will never go away.

But it wasn’t Jason who attacked me today. It wasn’t Zain. I know he wasn’t the one who broke into the house.

But seeing him in the dream … It's a reminder that I’ll never be free from the past. I’ll never be free from the mistake I made that caused him to lose his freedom. No matter how far I run, no matter how much I try to escape, that is never going to change.

I turn away from the window and crawl back into bed, but sleep doesn’t come. Every time I close my eyes, I see Jason. And then I see Zain, stepping closer, the knife raised, his voice echoing around my head.

“You’ll never be free of me.”

I know it isn’t real. But I can’t deny there’s an element of truth to his words.

I’m not free. Not from Jason’s death. Not from Zain. No matter what I do, it all still haunts me.

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