Faded Echoes

CHAPTER 1

It felt like I was trapped in a dream, the kind where everything is familiar but wrong at the same time. The room was dim, shadows blurring the edges of my vision. I stood there, frozen, and across from me was a woman. Her face was partly hidden by the flickering light, but something about her tugged at me-like I should know her.

The air between us felt heavy, like there was something neither of us wanted to say out loud. She just stared at me, her eyes sad, as if waiting for me to say something. But I couldn't. I didn't know what to say or why I was even here.

"This is wrong," I whispered, my voice barely holding together. I took a step back, feeling like I had to distance myself from her, from whatever this was. Everything about the moment felt off, like I was in a place I didn't belong.

She reached out her hand toward me, just a few inches away, but I couldn't bring myself to close the gap. "Please," she whispered, so soft I almost didn't hear it, but it hit me hard.

"I can't be with you," I said, trying to sound stronger than I felt, even though my heart was racing. My hands curled into fists, holding onto the only sense of control I had left. "You know that."

Her face fell. She dropped her hand and looked down, and for some reason, that made something inside me ache. I didn't understand why, but it hurt to see her like that.

And then, everything started to change. The room seemed to spin, the walls warped, and she started to blur, like she was fading into smoke right in front of me.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash-metal smashing, glass breaking-and a flash of bright light.

I woke up with a gasp, my chest tight, my body soaked in sweat. My heart pounded so hard it hurt. I tried to shake off the dream, but it clung to me. I couldn't remember who she was or why any of it mattered. But somehow, I knew it did.

The remnants of the dream still swirling in my mind like smoke. It took a moment for my surroundings to come into focus. The familiar scent of lavender and old books filled the room, a calming presence that always seemed to ground me. Sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, casting delicate patterns on the wooden floor.

My grandmother, with her silver hair pulled back in a neat bun, was already bustling around in the kitchen, the sound of her gentle humming filling the air. I loved these mornings, where everything felt simple and warm, even if they were tinged with the strange weight of my dreams.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she called out, her voice soft and inviting. I pulled myself out of bed and padded to the kitchen, where she was brewing a fresh pot of coffee. The rich aroma wrapped around me like a comforting hug.

"Morning, Grandma," I replied, trying to shake off the heaviness from the dream. I knew she could sense when something was off; she had an uncanny ability to read me, even when I didn't speak.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with concern. I smiled, knowing it was easier to keep the details of my dreams to myself. I didn't want to worry her with thoughts I barely understood myself.

"It was fine," I said, pouring a cup of coffee and adding just a splash of cream. "Just a strange dream."

"Strange dreams can be telling," she said, glancing at me over her shoulder. "They can reveal what's hidden deep inside. Just remember, you can always talk to me."

I nodded, grateful for her support, though I preferred to keep my thoughts locked away. There was so much about my past that I didn't understand, and I wasn't ready to share that burden. I loved my grandmother deeply, and I wanted to protect her from the shadows of my mind.