"For the hearts that refused to give up on love, and for the love stories that found their way back to each other"
#2 book of Destiny Series- Untangling the twisted knots
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I suddenly found myself in the center of the road. How did I get here? What's going on? These questions raced through my mind.
I turned my head to the right and saw a big billboard, everything felt too familiar. As I moved a bit further, it all repeated. There I was – the younger me, sitting near a crashed car, covered in blood, crying and screaming, trying to crawl towards the car.
My gaze shifted from the younger me to the car. I tried to look inside through the broken glass, and there I saw my dad lying lifeless, blood dripping from his head.
It was as if my very soul had been ripped from my body, leaving me numb and hollow. My legs, once steady and strong, betrayed me, refusing to support my weight as I stumbled forward in shock.
The shock hit me like a tidal wave I wanted to scream but I couldn't make a sound, it was as if my vocal cords were destroyed. The words trapped within me crawl into my mouth to come out
The only whisper escaping my mouth was 'Papa.' I kept repeating it, and with each repetition, the weight of my grief bore down on me, threatening to crush me under its unbearable burden.
And then, with the final whisper, my eyes shot open, snapping me back to reality with a jolt. I was no longer in the suffocating darkness of my nightmare, but lying in my bed with my heart pounding against my chest and drenched in cold sweat
I got up and sat on the edge of my bed. As I gulped, I felt a dry ache in my throat. I reached for the water bottle on the bedside table, opened the lid, and downed the water in one go.
Raising my head to the watch, before checking the time I whispered to myself "3 am" and that was the exact time displayed on the watch. Every day, the same nightmare of that night haunts me, with the scenes replaying, carving a deeper cut into those memories.
It's as if time itself has become a cruel reminder, counting down the minutes until the darkness descends once more until I am thrust back into the depths of that horrific night. No matter how hard I try to escape, the past has a way of catching up to me
Each night as the clock strikes three, I find myself transported back to that fateful moment, reliving the horror all over again.
The sight of my father's lifeless body, the echo of my screams ringing in my ears, the suffocating weight of grief pressing down on me
But every day I get up and cling to the hope that one day I will find peace, that the ghosts of the past will finally release their hold on me, allowing me to move forward unburdened by the weight of my memories
Shaking off these thoughts, I headed into the bathroom for my usual cold shower upon waking. It's become somewhat of a morning ritual for me. It's the one thing that reliably helps me calm down and regain some sense of control over the chaos of my mind.
The sensation of the cold water over my body brings a numbing feeling. In a way, it's as if the chill could penetrate beyond my skin, reaching deep into my mind to silence the loud voices echoing within.
