SHE SAID "NO" TO HIS PROPOSAL

Electrified

Luna's POV

I open my eyes, but all I see is suffocating darkness. I press my palms against the walls, feeling the cold, unyielding surface of the cabinet pressing in on me from every side. The space is cramped, and I can barely move. My heart races, the steady thud in my chest echoing in the silence, while each breath feels thin, shallow, like I'm slowly losing oxygen. It's too small in here, too tight, and the air feels heavy.

A faint slice of light filters through the display panel ahead, and I crawl toward it, my movements slow and deliberate, as if any shift might waste precious inches of space. My limbs ache from the awkward position, but I can't stop—there's something beyond that sliver of light. Outside, I see her. My mother. She's sitting cross-legged on my bed, her figure almost a silhouette in the dim light, but her eyes—her eyes are dark, burning with fury. She's staring at me, eyes seething with anger, and I know, without a doubt, that I've done something wrong.

"How dare you embarrass me in front of my friends!" she spits out, her voice sharp and filled with venom, her words cutting through the air like a whip.

I tremble, my voice cracking as I beg, "Mom, please let me out! I don't like it here! It's so dark! Please!" I pound my fists against the door, the sound echoing weakly, lost in the suffocating space. Tears well in my eyes, blurring my vision as the desperation swells inside me. The longer I remain here, the more I feel the walls closing in, the more I want to escape.

Her eyes flash, dark storm clouds gathering as she stands, and the words that leave her lips are a dagger. "I should have aborted you! You made my life miserable."

My chest tightens, the breath caught in my throat, and I choke out, "Mom, please! I'm sorry! Open the door, please!" My voice cracks with the weight of my fear, but my pleading is futile. Her face doesn't change. She doesn't seem to hear me—her expression hardens like stone. I watch her turn, her back to me, ready to leave the room. Each step she takes echoes through the silence, a harsh reminder of how far I am from her.

"Mom!" I scream, my voice muffled, barely a whisper in the vast space between us. My cries are swallowed by the thick air, swallowed by the suffocating dark that surrounds me. The walls of the cabinet seem to move, inching closer, tightening their grip on me. I watch, helpless, as the edges of the cabinet close in, the darkness swallowing everything whole. My pleas fade into the void, swallowed by the silence, as I am trapped—once again.

Suddenly, I jerk awake, gasping for air, drenched in sweat. My heart is pounding in my chest, my skin clammy and cold. I'm still in my bed, still in the quiet of my apartment, but the remnants of the nightmare cling to me like a heavy weight. My breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps as I fumble for the clock, my hands trembling.

5:45 AM.

I stared at the glowing numbers on the clock, the horror of the nightmare still seeping into my bones. I sat up, wiping my forehead, trying to shake off the lingering terror. I hadn't dreamed about my childhood in so long.

I walked to the kitchen and filled a glass of water, staring into the emptiness. Memories of my mother surfaced, unbidden, dragging me back. Every small mistake could set her off like a storm. I remembered being nine years old, ironing her dress and accidentally burning a hole into the fabric. She was so furious she shoved me into the closet and left me there until morning.

She had so much anger at the world, and she didn't know where to put it—so she poured it all onto me. 

She hadn't always been like this. I could still recall flashes of the woman she was before, full of life, full of dreams, her smile capable of lighting up an entire room. But all that changed when my father left us.