𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬: 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧

 Inside my mind, it was pitch black. Figures, mostly spirits of the departed, wandered about. Then, I saw a younger figure. I instinctively knew it was Juliana.

"Juliana, is that you?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The younger version of Juliana sat before me, her face buried in her knees, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. As I watched, she stood up, and another vision materialized in front of her—in front of us both.

The scene was harrowing, a tableau of trauma that made my stomach churn. A woman, Juliana's mother, stood on a bridge, her face contorted with an emotion I couldn't quite place. She held a small child, Juliana's sibling, and without warning, she threw the child off the bridge. The sheer horror of it made me turn away, bile rising in my throat.

I glanced back at younger Juliana, who had started to shake, her eyes wide with terror. I instinctively reached out to comfort her. "It's okay, Juliana," I murmured, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "I'm here for you, honey."

To my relief, she seemed to calm down, her shaking subsiding slightly. Another memory began to take shape before us. It dawned on me then—these were Juliana's memories, fragments of her past that she had kept hidden, even during our high school years when we were closest. I braced myself, ready to support her as we delved deeper into her troubled history.

As I stood there, a horrifying scene began to play out before my eyes. I saw Juliana, just a young girl, witnessing an unimaginable tragedy. Her father stood by the edge of a lake, a gun pressed firmly against his temple. His lips moved silently, forming the words, "God end my misery." Then, with a sudden, jarring motion, he pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot echoed through the air, and his body crumpled, falling into the water with a sickening splash. Red stains spread across Juliana's clothes, a stark contrast to the peaceful blue of the lake. I felt my eyes fill with tears as I turned to her, my heart aching with sympathy.

"Juliana, I'm so sorry that happened to you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Before I could offer any more words of comfort, another memory surged forth, this one even more traumatic than the last. I saw myself, reliving the moment that Parker Sun took my life. The gunshot rang out, and my body convulsed with pain as I clutched my chest, my fingers digging into my skin as if I could somehow hold the life inside me. Younger Juliana, her face pale and eyes wide with fear, tentatively tapped my shoulder.

"Olivia," she said, her voice shaking. "Are you okay?"

I turned to her, the pain and fear in her eyes reflecting my own. I wanted to reassure her, to tell her that everything would be alright, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I reached out, taking her hand in mine, hoping that my touch could convey the comfort and support that I couldn't express in words. Together, we stood there, two souls bound by the shared experience of trauma, finding solace in each other's presence.

As I stood there, trying to process the horrors we'd both witnessed, I heard a soft voice filled with a mix of innocence and determination. "Olivia, it's okay. I'm here for you, look, that's me!" It was younger Juliana, her face a picture of concern and bravery. She released my hand and dashed towards the older Juliana, who was kneeling on the ground, her body eerily still. Her eyes were aglow with an otherworldly light, shimmering in shades of white and every color of the rainbow. This ethereal light wrapped around her like a protective boundary, pulsating with an energy that seemed to defy explanation.

I started running towards her, driven by an instinct to help and comfort. But as I approached, the boundary of light intensified, pushing back against me with an invisible force. It was as if the very air around Juliana had become a solid wall, preventing me from getting any closer. I stumbled back, the force of the barrier catching me off guard.