Hold On I Still Need You

-Beneath The Silence-

Sophie's POV: 

It has been many weeks since I first felt the weight of my unknown illness. I am still unsure of what is wrong with me, which is unsettling. The constant pressure feels like a persistent buzz in my ears, never giving me a moment of peace. So when Keefe offered me a way to escape it all, I was unsure of what to make of it.

He stood before me with his usual mischievous grin, but today it held a hint of softness, something comforting. "Come on, Foster," he said, his voice light yet with a hint of something more. "I've discovered a hidden spot where you can truly relax and breathe. Trust me, you'll enjoy it."

I shifted uncomfortably, my fingers fiddling with the hem of my sleeve. "A hidden spot?"

He nodded, his eyes gleaming with that familiar spark of excitement. "It's a place with personal meaning for you. Something you need right now."

I frowned. I couldn't think of anything that felt like it would soothe me at the moment. I was overwhelmed, my mind still locked in that endless cycle of worry about what was happening to me, about what I couldn't control. "Keefe, I don't—"

He stepped closer, his voice quieter now. "I know, Foster I get it. But you need to let go for a little while. Even just for a few hours. You've been carrying so much on your shoulders. Let me help. You deserve this."

I swallowed, unsure. But I saw the sincerity in his eyes, and something in me—a part I didn't even know I still had—wanted to believe him. "Okay. Just... don't leave me in the middle of nowhere, alright?"

Keefe laughed softly, nodding. "Promise. Come on. It'll be good for you."

And so we began walking. He led me into the woods, far away from the noise and chaos of everything, past the familiar places I'd been, through dense trees and overgrown paths. There was a quiet beauty in the air here, the soft rustle of leaves, the birds singing in the distance. It was like the world was holding its breath.

For the first time in a long while, I felt a little lighter. But even then, the weight of my unknown illness still loomed in the back of my mind, a constant shadow.

We walked deeper into the woods, the air growing cooler as the trees thickened. My senses slowly began to adjust to the stillness around us—the soft crunch of leaves beneath our feet, the rustle of branches in the wind, the distant chirp of birds. It felt like we were leaving everything behind, all the noise and the pressure of my illness, the constant uncertainty that had been weighing me down.

Keefe finally stopped, and I nearly collided with him. He turned and grinned, but there was something else in his eyes now—almost like he was waiting for something. "Here we are," he said, his voice soft, reverent, as if we had stumbled upon something sacred.

I looked around, and at first, all I saw was a patch of sunlight filtering through the trees, illuminating a small clearing. The air smelled fresh, like rain, and there was the gentle sound of water nearby, a soft stream trickling through the grass. My heart stopped for a moment as the realization hit me.

This place. I recognized it immediately. My breath caught in my throat as memories I had buried deep beneath layers of time and fear flooded back. The small stream. The wide, flat rock I used to sit on with my feet in the water. The tall, proud trees that seemed to guard this little glade, protecting it from the world outside.

I hadn't been here in years—not since I was a child.

I felt a rush of nostalgia, the kind that's almost painful. It was like stepping back in time, and for a moment, I wasn't Sophie, the girl who was sick and lost. I was just a little girl again, playing in the stream, laughing with a freedom I hadn't known in ages. The peace in this place was overwhelming, and the weight on my chest seemed to lighten, even if just a little.