Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys (Slowed + Reverb)
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Aria
"To be betrayed by someone who've known your suffering is like splitting a wound open and feeling it hurt all over again."
I'm running.
I don't know why, but I'm running. I rush past everyone, the sound of someone sprinting after me echoing in my ears.
Why am I running? Why am I running? Why am I running?
I can't stop. My eyes are tightly shut, tears streaming down my cheeks. I have no idea where I'm headed. My legs feel weak, yet somehow I keep moving as if it requires no effort at all.
A muffled voice calls my name, but it only fuels my desperation to escape.
I know I've reached the outside when a rush of cool air hits me.
I take another step, but then I trip. A jolt of pain shoots through my leg. "Shit," I wince.
I hear footsteps faltering behind me, and I know it's him. I can sense a hand reaching out to touch me.
"Don't touch me." I gasp, breathing heavily, tears continuing to fall. I haven't eaten anything today, and I can feel myself teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.
"Aria—"
"I don't want to hear it." My voice trembles as I speak, and my vision begins to blur. I can feel myself about to faint, but my body is fighting it.
I attempt to stand, but it's a futile effort. My knees buckle beneath me as soon as I try. My head is pounding, and my body feels like it's on fire.
And then, when my body can no longer endure the strain, I finally collapse into darkness.
𓆩✧𓆪
I awaken in a frigid room, the kind that feels like winter's grip. My lips are parched and glued together, and a relentless pounding in my head makes it feel as if it might shatter. I sense the unforgiving surface beneath my back, intensifying the ache in my skull, which feels ready to explode at any moment. Oh, how I wish that were the worst of my problems.
With great effort, I sit up, every inch of discomfort flooding back. A sense of familiarity washes over me—definitely déjà vu.
My neck is stiff, and my legs feel as fragile as paper.
As I finally open my eyes, disappointment washes over me. Memories flood back, and I find myself in the same room where this nightmare began—the room where it all started.
Shifting slightly, I discover a crumpled piece of paper in my hand. Curiosity compels me to unfurl it.
"This is a thanks for embarrassing me."
"Yours truly, Elias."
That insufferable jerk. A "thanks for embarrassing me"—are you kidding? I can practically picture the smug expression on his face as he says that. I swear, I could tear his face off in that moment.
