A deep, chilling cold seeped into my bones, like ice spreading from the inside out. Time lost all meaning—hours, maybe even days slipped by, but I couldn't tear myself away from her. I lay there beside Scarlet, my body numb and aching, my mind caught in a daze of grief and disbelief. I hadn't slept; I didn't eat or drink, just stared at her, hoping to see a flicker of life, a rise and fall of her chest, any hint that this nightmare wasn't real. The silence pressed down on me like a crushing weight, suffocating and still, her lifeless form the only thing anchoring me to this cold, desolate reality. I'm just dead.
YOU ARE READING
The Whistler In The Night
HorrorEvan is left shattered, haunted by nightmares that refuse to fade. Night after night, he's drawn into disturbing visions of shadowed figures and ritual chants that seem to echo beyond his dreams. Seeking comfort, he confides in Elena, a new friend w...
