𝑀𝑖𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑒𝑙 𝐽𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝐼𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 • 𝐕𝐨𝐥.𝟑

𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

~ Beating Time ~
~*Part Two*~

~*~*~

Yn lay on the sandy shore near her hidden loft, gasping for breath as her lungs felt like they were on fire. Each cough brought up water, sending sharp, searing pain through her side. She reached out instinctively to steady herself but recoiled at the sight of blood staining her trembling hand. Her instinct was to scream, but she knew she had to stay hidden from the public eye. Panic surged within her, but she forced herself to focus, each movement intensifying the waves of agony coursing through her battered body.

With sheer determination, she crawled toward a nearby rock, using it as leverage to pull herself upright. Each step felt like an eternity, her limbs heavy and her mind clouded with pain. "Come on, Yn, just a little more," she murmured through gritted teeth. Despite her overwhelming exhaustion, she navigated her way back to her loft, her breath ragged and shallow, clutching her injured side.

Upon reaching her loft, the journey to the bathroom seemed interminable. Every step was a grueling test of endurance, her side throbbing relentlessly. She finally made it to the bathroom and glanced at her reflection in the mirror-a ghostly figure coated in mud, sand, and blood.

She switched on the shower, and the water quickly warmed, enveloping the room in steam. She peeled off her sodden garments with a shiver, stepping under the stream. The water cascading over her wound was both a relief and a torment. Each droplet felt like a tiny blade slicing into her, but she gritted her teeth and endured the pain, allowing the water to wash away the grime and the haunting memories of the night.

After what seemed like an eternity, she emerged from the shower, her skin raw and tinged with red from the vigorous scrubbing. Wrapping herself in a towel, she tried to tend to her wound but found herself trembling uncontrollably, the shock of her ordeal still gripping her. Her hands shook as she hastily donned a black tank top and leggings, seeking solace in their embrace before retreating under the covers.

Sitting in the middle of her bed, Yn stared blankly at the flickering flames in the fireplace. The warmth from the fire was a cruel contrast to the chill that gripped her bones. She rocked back and forth slowly, her body aching from the stress and fear. Her mind was a chaotic whirlpool of anxiety, replaying the night's harrowing events in a relentless loop. The hands that had closed in around her, the deafening gunshot, the spray of blood-each image was as vivid as the moment it happened, each memory cutting deeper into her psyche.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to drown out the echoes of terror. The pain of the night's events was unbearable, making her feel as though she was teetering on the edge of sanity. Her breaths came in short, ragged gasps as she fought to regain control over her spiraling emotions.

A sudden, jarring noise shattered the fragile calm of her loft, causing her heart to leap into her throat. The sound was so out of place that it took her a moment to even identify it-a thud, followed by the creak of a door. Her head snapped around, her eyes wide with alarm as her breath quickened. The rising tide of panic threatened to overwhelm her, every muscle tensed in preparation for whatever was to come next.