"Some journeys don't begin with a step, but with the weight of an untold story, hanging between silence and fate."
🌙
In a land where whispers of the past intertwine with the present
Sania, a soul adrift, seeks...
“In the depths of darkness, we find our true selves—whether we want to or not.”
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
🌙
She slips off her shoes and sinks into the plush couch. The silence is soothing. Letting out a deep sigh, Sania feels the tension in her shoulders begin to ease, as though the weight of her thoughts is slowly dissolving into the calm around her. She closes her eyes, letting the stillness of the evening wash over her, her breathing steady and slow.
Her thoughts inevitably drift back to Hassan. A faint smile touches her lips, the corners softening as her heart feels lighter. For the first time in days, the loneliness recedes. Maybe, just maybe, she has someone standing by her side.
Eventually, she rises and crosses the room to her desk, where her laptop sits surrounded by scattered notes, a chaotic reflection of her recent life. She sits down, her fingers resting lightly on the keyboard, taking a deep breath before she begins to type. Her thoughts spill out rapidly—mysterious notes left for her, strange occurrences she can no longer ignore, and Hassan’s words that continue to echo in her mind. She writes everything, hoping to make sense of it all.
__
As night falls and the cold of winter seeps into the room, Sania sits curled up on her bed. The softness of the bed reminds her of home, of her mother’s gentle voice telling stories long into the night until she fell asleep. A bittersweet smile plays on her lips as nostalgia washes over her. She misses her family—her friends, her mother’s cooking, the warmth of her childhood.
Despite everything, Sania had worked hard to build her life. She refuses to let fear of one person take that away from her.
She was lost in thoughts when suddenly, a faint sound breaks the silence. Her eyes dart toward the door. She grips her phone, her heart pounding. She tries to calm herself, reminding herself that she’s safe. The door is locked, and no one should be able to get in.
But then, she hears footsteps, deliberate and slow, echoing outside her room. Panic surges through her veins. She grabs her phone, dialing Hassan’s number with trembling fingers. “Hassan, please pick up!” she whispers, her voice shaking. Tears blur her vision as she types out a frantic message, "Hassan, please..."
Just then, the door creaks open. Sania’s breath catches in her throat, and fear grips her as she realizes she’s not alone.
A figure emerges from the shadows, tall and menacing, its features obscured by the dim light. It steps closer, his eyes fixed on her with an intensity that makes her skin crawl.
The figure’s presence is suffocating, and Sania can’t move. She tries to scream, but her voice fails her. The figure’s hand reaches out and grasps her wrist, the cold grip like iron. Sania struggles, but her body is unresponsive, weighed down by terror.
The figure tightens its hold, yanking her off the bed with unnatural strength. Her legs feel like they’re made of lead as she’s dragged across the room, her feet scraping helplessly against the floor. She tries to scream again, but a rough hand clamps over her mouth, silencing her. Her vision blurs, the world spinning as she’s lifted off the ground, her body suspended like a puppet in mid-air.
The last thing Sania sees before darkness swallows her is the shattered screen of her phone lying on the floor, the jagged pieces glinting like broken glass in the faint light.
---
Her consciousness returns slowly, like a thick fog lifting from her mind. Her eyelids flutter open, and nausea rolls through her stomach. Her head throbs painfully, and the cold, damp surface beneath her sends chills through her body. She tries to sit up, but the pounding in her temples forces her to lie back down.
Where is she? Her mind races, trying to piece together her last memories. The figure in her room—the struggle—the overwhelming fear. Panic floods her system as the realization sets in: she’s been taken.
She is lying on a narrow bed, the dingy grey walls around her feel suffocating, closing in. She tries to call out, but her voice is barely a croak, too weak to be heard. “Where...where am I?” she whispers, but the silence answers her back. Fear grips her chest like a vice as she realizes she is completely alone, vulnerable and at the mercy of her captor.
Footsteps sound outside the room, growing louder with each step. Sania’s pulse races as the door creaks open, and a shadowy figure steps into the doorway, his presence looming over her like a dark omen.
As the figure steps into the room, Sania strains to see his face, but it's swallowed by the shadows that cling to him like a second skin. His movements are slow, deliberate, and each step seems to drag the air out of the room. He approaches her with an unnerving silence, his features still obscured, and fear claws its way up her spine.
She has no idea who he is or what he wants. His silence is oppressive, and the longer he stands there, the tighter the panic coils within her. He looms over her, his presence thick and suffocating.
Sania's throat tightens as she tries to speak, her words trapped beneath the weight of her fear. His hand reaches out, and she flinches, bracing herself for whatever horror is about to come.
But instead of violence, he places a tray on the small table beside her. The simple act seems out of place in the midst of her terror. On the tray is a single glass of water, the liquid reflecting the dim light from the small window above.
She tries again to speak, her voice barely above a whisper, but before she can get the words out, he turns and walks out of the room, leaving her with nothing but the echo of the door closing behind him.
Sania’s heart pounds in her chest as she stares at the tray, her mind whirling with confusion and fear. Her eyes scan the room, taking in every detail in her frantic search for answers. The room is bleak, the walls a dull, lifeless grey. A single window sits high up on the wall, far out of her reach, its glass smeared with grime that allows only the faintest sliver of light to enter. The bed she lies on is narrow and hard, its thin blanket offering little comfort against the cold that creeps into her bones.
She scans the door, her eyes searching for a handle, a lock—anything—but there’s nothing.
She is trapped, with no way out, and the walls seem to press in closer with every breath she takes.
