A Song of Remembrance ( Redamancy Book 1: Under Reconstruction)

Chapter 3

With a gasp, I flew upright, barely managing to stifle the scream that waited in my throat. Chest aching, my lungs cried for air but were left unanswered, my soul empty where my heart was supposed to be. My lips hurt from the pressure of keeping them shut as I sat there, silently pleading for everything to stop.

But something told me it never would.

Inhaling slowly, I focused on the surroundings, forcing myself to gain clarity.

Unlike before, the air was no longer dense with humidity or tickled by the wind. No, it was crisp now, the steady hum of the A/C unit drowning out the screams that had ripped through the night.

... and gone was the moonlight.

Only me and the darkness of my bedroom remained.

When I finally gained control of my movements, the thrum of my heartbeat becoming faintly noticeable, I blinked once, then twice. I didn't need to look into the mirror to know that I was covered in a light layer of sweat. The damp blankets that I was clutching to my chest gave it away. Despite the thickness of the material, it was no match for my grip, my fingernails biting through the barrier and indenting into my palms.

I welcomed the pain.

I deserved it.

It was my fault he was dead.

It was my fault my family would never be the same again.

I glanced at my clock wordlessly, unable to keep the tremors that rocked through my body at bay.

Three minutes past twelve.

Way too early to be up considering the day I had ahead of me tomorrow.

It was a moment before I laid back down, willing the images that played beneath my eyelids to go away. But as the minutes ticked away into the next hour, no matter how hard I prayed, the vision stayed engraved in my mind, adrenaline gripping me without welcome. I knew from experience that the stench of smoke that lingered in my nostrils, wouldn't go away until I was asleep again. 

Something that didn't usually come easily.

Taking a shaky breath I rolled over, before turning my pillow over and pressing my face into the cool fabric—anything to keep the fire that rushed in my veins from growing hotter.

For the first time in my life, there was something that I was too scared to remember. Hopeful to forget. But now that it was the sixth time my night had been plagued with unquenchable terror, I knew that there was nothing I could do to stop this.

Not when every time I closed my eyes, it felt more like a memory than a dream.

Secluded in my room, and embraced in the quiet of the night, I wasn't burdened with the pressure to hide my tears. So I didn't, not caring if my sheets were getting wet as I freed the despair and anger that had been pooling in my stomach.

I wasn't sure why I believed that time would be different. After all, the dream always ended the same.

I was never able to finish my warning.

I was never able to save my family.