REKINDLED || Completed

2

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Two
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12 years ago...

The innocent girl was crying.

She was crying with everything in her the moment she slammed the door with her tiny fists over and over and nobody opened. Her uncle had locked her in that familiar room.

It still smelt of blood and sweat, a lingering smell she was rather too embarrassed to pick up.

The smell of feminity.

Everything was a mess...the bed sat to the far right, its sheets torn with blotches of red. There were clothes on the floor. Her clothes. Torn beyond repair.

She had fallen to her knees when it finally dawned on her that there was no escape. There never was when times like that came.

She shook terribly when footsteps began to advance down the hall, towards her door. They were heavy and very unfamiliar.

The footsteps seemed to stop just a few feet away but she'd already scooted far back from the door. Her back pressed against the wall as she prayed and hoped it would suck her body and hide her from the terror that would unfold soon.

Voices made her perk up.

There were voices. Not one, but more....she didn't know how many, but they all had the bass to it that made the walls around her shake. She swallowed heavily when someone began to unlock the door from outside before the door was pushed open.

She felt her jaw drop to the floor at the sight of the three monstrosities that towered before her cowering frame.

One of them started to smile. A smile that made her eyes burn with unshed tears.

She knew that smile.

It wasn't a good one...

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Asher jolted upright, her chest rising and falling in jagged, uneven gasps. The weight of invisible hands pressed against her lungs, tightening, choking. Darkness clung to the corners of her room, but reality crept in like a slow, cruel whisper.

She had fallen asleep.

Again.

And the nightmares had come.

Again.

A wheezing gasp tore from her throat, and her hands scrambled frantically across the nightstand. She was suffocating. She could feel the air slipping away, thinning into nothing, but she had to hold on.

Her fingers found the inhaler. She swiped it up with trembling hands, barely steadying herself enough to take a full, desperate puff. She sucked in the medicine like it was the only thing tethering her to life. And maybe it was.

A long, shaky exhale escaped her lips as she collapsed back onto the mattress. Her legs felt boneless, her body too heavy to carry. The moment her head hit the pillow, the memories struck like lightning.

The sounds.

The little girl’s cries, high-pitched and desperate. The grunts—deep, dark, and merciless. The suffocating grip of pain.

Her stomach twisted violently, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, willing herself to breathe. She had just recovered from one attack; she couldn’t afford another.

She still trembled.

She still ached.

Her thighs burned where the scars lived, where they would always live.

She squeezed her eyes shut. The images wouldn’t go away. They never did.

Why had she fallen asleep?

Why?

For most, sleep was an escape—a quiet reprieve from the weight of the world. But not for Asher. Sleep was a door left wide open, a passage into the past where her demons roamed free. She could keep them locked away when she was awake. She could pretend. But when her eyes closed, the chains broke, and they came for her without mercy.

She forced herself upright, her back pressing into the headrest, as if anchoring herself to something solid would keep her from slipping away. With an unsteady hand, she flicked on the night lamp. The golden glow filled the space around her, but it did nothing to banish the cold fear wrapped around her soul.

She hated the dark.

She hated it because, even with her eyes shut, she could still see them—their monstrous arms, their piercing eyes, the way they had swallowed her whole.

She hated the night.

It was never just a time. It was a thief, a hunter, a cruel companion that sat with her in the stillness, reminding her of every wound, every breath stolen, every battle lost.

She turned to the small clock beside her.

2:15 A.M.

A long sigh slipped past her lips.

If only time could move faster.

She pulled the steaming cup of coffee closer, watching as the liquid swirled beneath the spoon. She stirred absentmindedly, eyes flickering toward the window. Any moment now, she told herself. The sky would shift. The sun would rise. The light would return.

It was just a matter of time.

Just a matter of patience.

Just a test to see how long she could keep her eyes open before the nightmares tried to steal her away again.

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Author: So I did say I was gonna come back and drop this when someone dropped a 'hi' or voted. I don't know if it's just me, but votes encourage me to do more.

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