The Astral Connection

Chapter 3: The Walls Close In

The next morning, Elara was awake before the sun. She hadn't slept since the nightmare, too afraid to close her eyes again, too haunted by the images that lurked behind her eyelids. Every sound in the hospital—the rustling of sheets, the soft footsteps of nurses—sent jolts of fear through her. She kept seeing things, glimpses of movement at the edge of her vision, red eyes watching her from the dark corners of the room.

But every time she turned to look, there was nothing. Just empty space.

She wasn't imagining this. She couldn't be.

By the time her mother arrived later that morning, Elara's nerves were raw. The detective had left the night before, and no one had spoken to her since, but she could feel the weight of their disbelief pressing down on her, suffocating. Her mother entered with a forced smile, her eyes bloodshot, and placed a hand on Elara's forehead as if she were still a child with a fever.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" she asked softly, her voice wavering.

"I'm fine," Elara lied. Her mind was racing, struggling to hold on to the shreds of memory from that night. The crash, the creatures, the way they had torn through her friends like they were nothing. The fear. The blood. It all came back in flashes, but every time she tried to make sense of it, it slipped through her fingers.

Her mother sat down in the chair beside the bed, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. "The doctors want to keep you here a little longer, just to make sure you're okay. They think the shock of what happened might be affecting your memory."

"They don't believe me." Elara's voice was flat, but inside, the words burned.

Her mother hesitated, her eyes darting away. "They just want to make sure you're safe. That you're getting the help you need."

"They think I'm crazy."

"No one thinks that," her mother said quickly, but her tone was too careful, too practiced. Elara could see the doubt in her eyes, the way her mother avoided looking at her directly. "You went through something horrible. Sometimes, the mind tries to protect itself by..."

"By making things up?" Elara finished bitterly. "By creating monsters?"

Her mother's silence was answer enough.

Elara's pulse quickened, frustration bubbling up inside her. Why wouldn't anyone listen to her? Why couldn't they understand that what she had seen was real? Her friends were dead—slaughtered—and everyone was acting like it was some kind of tragic accident. An animal attack. A bad dream.

It wasn't a dream. She had felt the cold breath of those creatures on her skin, had seen their glowing eyes, their twisted, inhuman faces. But how could she explain that when even she could barely remember the details?

Her mother stood abruptly, her movements stiff, as though she were holding something back. "I'll get the nurse," she said quietly. "You need to rest."

Elara didn't respond as her mother left the room, the door closing softly behind her. Rest? How could she rest when every time she closed her eyes, she saw those creatures, felt their presence lingering in the shadows? How could she rest when no one believed her?

As the minutes ticked by, Elara's heart raced faster. She couldn't stay here. The hospital felt like a prison, the walls too white, too bright, too full of the scent of disinfectant and antiseptic. She needed answers, and she wasn't going to find them here.

Ignoring the pain in her limbs, Elara swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her body protested, muscles sore and weak, but she pushed through it, gritting her teeth. The hospital gown clung to her, making her feel exposed and vulnerable, but she didn't care. She had to get out. She had to find the truth.