Page 13 of Sage Haven
But it became my anchor and my burden.
A reminder of the lie I needed to survive the next day.
“I’m okay.”
I whispered it aloud.
A hollow mantra that I repeated it until it almost sounded true.
But it wasn’t.
And I didn’t know if it ever would be.
4
REICH
Last night had beena constant battle without end. An excruciating war waged not only against the clock but against the brittle edges of my own sanity. Every passing hour had carved something away from me, left me hollowed out in ways I didn’t yet have the courage to examine.
The task was finished. Another name crossed off the list, another obligation fulfilled. But each completion came at a cost.
Always at a cost.
And the aftermath? It was patient. It waited until the work was done, then it came to collect. I could feel it now—the toll it exacted on my mind, my body and even my soul. The ache that settled in afterward, spread through me like a cold frostbite, further numbing me and disconnecting me from my reality.
Sleep remained as elusive as ever. No matter how heavy my eyelids grew or how deep the exhaustion ran through my core, I couldn’t find rest. The night clung to me; its cold hands pressed against my throat leaving me reaching for breath.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it.
What I’d done.
WhatI’d become.
When the first light of dawn began to seep in through the blinds of my bedroom window—thin streaks of pale gold against my neutral walls—I felt the pull. A sharp, insistent urge, like an itch beneath the skin I couldn’t reach. I needed space. Air. A moment alone before the weight of another day could settle on my shoulders, dragging me back under.
I slid out of bed, moving carefully and deliberately. As if I feared waking someone—or something—that still lingered in the walls of this house. Ghosts. Regrets.
Names I couldn’t remember. Names I could never forget.
The house was silent as I moved through it, feet bare against the cold wood floors. Every shadow was familiar. Every corner memorized. It was all mine, yet there were days it didn’t feel like a home. More like a monument. Or more like a mausoleum.
I pushed through the glass door and stepped outside, onto the deck that stretched wide before me.
Out here, the world was still.
The deck overlooked everything—the river winding far below, carving its restless path through the valley before merging with the lake in the distance. On the other side of the water, my field of wildflowers had begun to bloom again, a riot of color splashed across the earth like an abstract artist’s reckless brushstroke. It looked peaceful.
But I knew better.
I always knew better.
Beneath that wild beauty was soil that had swallowed my secrets. My buried truths.
The earth had taken them in and, like the rest of this place, gone still. So, to an outsider, it was nothing more than a field—a picture-perfect stretch of untouched land.
But to me?
It was a graveyard.
