The Astral Connection

Chapter 4 : Echoes of the past

*2 weeks later*

The school bell rang, signaling the end of third period, and Elara remained motionless at her desk. Her classmates filed out, chatting animatedly about their plans for the weekend, but she remained seated, staring blankly at the chalkboard. The lesson had been a blur—numbers and equations drifting past her consciousness like ghostly shadows. It had been two weeks since she left the hospital, and despite the physical wounds healing, the psychological scars were still raw and tender.

Her attempts to reintegrate into school life felt like an elaborate charade. The familiar clamor of the school hallways and the ordinary chatter of her peers seemed out of place, a cruel reminder of normalcy she no longer felt connected to.

The metallic noises began again. They were faint at first, like distant echoes of a machine running on a low setting, but they quickly grew louder and more insistent. Elara's hands flew to her ears, her fingers pressing against her skull as if she could physically block out the sound. Her heart pounded in her chest, a drumbeat of anxiety that made her feel like she was losing control.

"Elara?" A voice cut through the cacophony, clear and concerned. Elara turned her head, struggling to focus on the figure standing beside her. It was Marcus, a classmate she barely knew but who had always been polite and friendly. He looked down at her with a mixture of worry and curiosity.

"Are you okay?" Marcus's voice was calm, his tone carrying a sense of genuine concern. He extended a hand to her, but the metallic noises seemed to drown out his words, making them distant and muffled.

Elara shook her head, unable to speak as she fought to control the rising panic. The noise felt as though it was inside her head, twisting and contorting her thoughts. She could barely make out Marcus's face through the haze of her distress.

"Come on," Marcus said gently, taking her by the arm and guiding her out of the classroom. The hallway was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaotic noise that plagued her senses. Elara followed him numbly, her footsteps echoing softly against the linoleum floor.

They reached an alcove near the lockers, a secluded space away from the bustling activity of the hallway. The noise faded slightly, but Elara's breathing remained rapid and uneven. She pressed her back against the cool wall, her eyes darting around as she tried to ground herself.

Marcus looked at her with a sympathetic expression. "What happened back there? You seemed like you were in a lot of pain."

Elara struggled to steady her breath, her hands still pressed against her ears. "It's—" She hesitated, the metallic noises lingering in the background like an unwelcome presence. "It's nothing. I just—"

Marcus interrupted, his voice steady and reassuring. "I know it's not nothing. I saw you at the funeral. I know what happened. I know you lost friends."

The mention of the funeral was like a blow to the gut. Elara's breath caught in her throat, and she looked away, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She had been trying so hard to avoid talking about that night, to pretend as if it was just a nightmare she could forget. But hearing someone acknowledge it brought it all flooding back—the terror, the loss, the sheer hopelessness.

"I'm sorry," Marcus said softly. "I didn't know how to approach you, but I wanted to say... I'm sorry for what happened. I can't imagine what you went through."

Elara's eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away, feeling a mixture of relief and frustration. Relief that someone understood, and frustration that she couldn't escape the memories. "Thank you. I didn't think anyone cared. I've been trying to act like everything's normal, but it's not. It feels like I'm living in a nightmare."