Normal text
Thinking
Onomatopoeia
Rayne's POV
I jolted awake with a scream.
My eyes snapped open, fixed on the ceiling as I dragged in ragged breaths. My heart pounded, my body trembling, my thoughts still tangled in the remnants of the nightmare. It took a few seconds to remember where I was.
My room.
My bed.
With shaking fingers, I touched my cheeks.
Wet.
Tears.
A dull ache spread through my chest—a hollow, gnawing pain, right where my heart should have been. Right where that blond bastard had hurt me. The emptiness felt wrong. Raw. Unbearable.
...What was that?
Who wanted me dead?
Whose body was I in?
And that woman—
A tired groan slipped from my throat as I pressed my fingers to my temples, slick with cold sweat. My back felt damp, sticky, as though something had soaked through my clothes.
Blood.
The thought made my stomach lurch.
A fragment of memory surfaced without warning—me gasping, shouting incoherently, hands wrapped around a kitchen knife. Red everywhere. My arms moving again and again, long after they should have stopped.
My fingers dug into the cushion.
Thump. Thump.
Pain flared behind my right eye, sudden and sharp. My shoulders tightened as I clutched the thin blanket. The ache spread through my skull, leaving me dizzy and faintly sick.
I raised a trembling hand to the adhesive patch over my eye.
The skin beneath felt tight. Sensitive.
The wound had healed years ago—but the pain never truly left. It always returned with the memories.
I squeezed my eyes shut and forced the images back into the dark corner of my mind where they belonged. After several slow, uneven breaths, the throbbing eased.
What remained was numbness.
The same hollow ache in my chest.
I pushed myself upright and frowned. Sleeping pills were scattered across the floor, white tablets stark against the dust.
A mess.
I must have forgotten to screw the cap on properly last night.
Idiot.
They weren't cheap. They swallowed a painful portion of my already meagre wages from the convenience store. If I wasted them, I would be scraping by for the rest of the month.
A slow breath left me as I crouched down, gathering them one by one. Dust clung stubbornly to the tablets; I brushed each clean before returning it to the bottle, counting twice to make sure none were missing. When I finished, I straightened carefully, joints stiff, limbs heavy.
Breakfast.
Routine.
The same as yesterday.
The same as every day.
Endure it. Go through the motions. Drag myself from morning to night.
Over and over—
Until one day I overdosed on sleeping pills.
YOU ARE READING
Your Shadow Is My Light
FanficRayne, a girl born into tragedy, is haunted by a traumatic past, burdened by the memories of killing her father and witnessing her mother's death. Bullied and isolated, she often struggles with self-doubt, thinking that she's better off dead than al...
