The Enigmatic Midnight-Spider

Chapter 2: Holding Together

10 Years Later...

The alarm buzzed harshly at 5:50 AM, cutting through the quiet darkness of the room like a serrated knife. *BZZZZZ! BZZZZZ! BZZZZZ!* The sound was rentless, refusing to be ignored, until finally, a hand shot out from under the covers with a speed that hinted at the aggression buried just beneath the surface. The hand belonged to Matthew Lacey-22 now, with a lean frame that spoke of a life spent either in the gym or the streets, though both could be true on any given day. His fingers slammed the snooze button with a bit more force than necessary, silencing the alarm as he blinked his eyes open, staring blankly at the ceiling above.

It was the same routine every morning. Wake up, shut off the goddamn alarm, and then sit there-just sit there-at the edge of the bed, caught somewhere between yesterday's ghosts and today's burdens. He took a deep breath, the cool morning air filling his lungs, but it did little to push away the heaviness that always lingered in his chest. His mind was still groggy, still stuck in that place between waking and dreaming, and all he could think of was the weight of time-ten years of it-and how it had done absolutely nothing to heal the pain.

He reached up and rubbed his cheek absentmindedly, his fingers tracing the scar that slashed across it, a permanent reminder of the night everything had changed. The memory of twisted metal and blinding lights was a constant companion, lurking in the shadows of his mind, just waiting to strike when he was at his most vulnerable. And then there were the nightmares-always the fucking nightmares.

Matthew was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of soft footsteps approaching his room. The door creaked open, the sound almost apologetic, like the person on the other side was trying not to disturb him too much, but still needing to check on him. Lydia, his godmother, stepped into the room, her presence filling the space with a warmth that Matthew often found comforting and suffocating.

"Bom Dia, Matthew (Good Morning, Matthew)," Lydia said softly, her voice tinged with that familiar Brazilian accent that reminded him so much of his mother. She stood there, hesitating in the doorway, her eyes carefully scanning him, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, that tense set of his jaw, the way he sat on the edge of the bed like a man on the edge of something far more dangerous.

Matthew didn't respond. He jusr stared straight ahead, his eyes unfocused, like he was looking at something only he could see. Or maybe at nothing at all.

Lydia took a cautions step forward, her eyes filled with concern. "I made breakfast. There's pão de queijo (cheese's bread, one of the most typical Brazilian treats) and some scrambled eggs, just the way you like them," she said, trying to entice him with the comfort of food, something that used to work when he was younger. She'd made a habit of spoiling him with all the Brazilian dishes his mother used to cook. It was her way of keeping Caroline's memory alive, but lately, it seemed like nothing could break through the wall Matthew had built around himself.

Still, no response. The silence between them grew thick, almost opressive, until Lydia couldn't bear it anymore. She sighed, a soft resigned sound, and finally asked the question that had been weighing on her mind. "Did you have another nightmare?"

Matthew's jaw clenched, a muscle in his cheek twitching as he fiught to keep his emotions in check. The nightmares were always there lurking in the background, waiting for him to close his eyes. And they weren't just nightmares-they were memories, twisted and distorted by his subconscious until they were almost unrecognizable, yet still painfully real. Every night, he was back in that car, hearing the screech of tires, the crunch of metal, feeling the impact like a punch to the gut. And every night, he woke up just before the end, drenched in sweat, gasping for breath, as if his body was trying to outrun a fate that had already caught up with him.