Shadows of the Past

Healing Wounds

⚠️TRIGGER WARNING⚠️ Mention of Suicide

The world felt like it stopped spinning. Thomas's heart thundered in his chest, each beat echoing like a drum in his ears. His wide eyes stayed locked on her, the woman sitting awkwardly on his roommate's bed. Her face, framed by loose strands of hair, was pale, her lips trembling as she twisted her fingers together—a nervous tic he recognized all too well.

"Thomas..." she whispered, her voice cracking. "Please, just... say something."

Her ocean-blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, their vulnerability cutting through him like a blade.

He blinked, pulling himself out of the daze that threatened to consume him. But the ground beneath his feet still felt unstable, as though he were standing on the edge of some great abyss. His gaze flickered to his roommate in the corner of the dorm. The guy was frozen, perched on the edge of his chair, a mixture of shock and discomfort plastered on his face. Clearly, he hadn't expected this either.

Thomas's mouth was dry, the words choking in his throat before they finally spilled out. "Are... are you sure it's even mine?"

The question hung heavy in the air. It felt accusatory, though he hadn't meant it to be. He immediately regretted saying it the moment her face fell, the hurt flashing across her features before she looked down at her hands, wringing them tighter.

Her voice wavered as she replied, barely above a whisper. "Yes. I'm sure."

The weight of her words hit him like a sledgehammer. Thomas felt his knees threaten to buckle as he leaned against the desk behind him for support. He opened his mouth to speak again but found that no words came. His roommate shifted uncomfortably, clearly debating whether to leave but unable to tear his eyes away from the unfolding drama.

Thomas finally exhaled, his breath shaky. "But... But we used protection. How..."

Thomas's jaw clenched as he ran his hand through his dark-brown hair, his fingers tangling in frustration. How had one night—a single party, a fleeting moment of recklessness—led to this? He was only in his third year of university, with another year to go. His future had been planned out: career, success, maybe kids someday. Someday . But now? The weight of responsibility crashed down on him like a tidal wave.

He sat down heavily on his bed, burying his face in his hands. He couldn't even look at her, not yet. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional crackle of the dorm's cheap heater.

"Who else knows?" Thomas asked, his voice muffled but sharp.

Sarah lifted her gaze cautiously, her blue eyes darting between her trembling hands and his slouched form. She bit her lip, hesitating, and that hesitation was enough to set him on edge.

"Sarah..." His tone hardened, though he didn't look at her. "Who else knows?"

She swallowed audibly, her voice barely a whisper when she finally replied. "My... parents."

The room seemed to shrink around him. His roommate, who had been perched awkwardly at his desk, gasped so loudly it felt like a gunshot in the tense atmosphere. Thomas's icy glare shot toward him, but it only seemed to amuse the guy further.

"Sorry, Tommy," his roommate said, clearly enjoying the spectacle. His smirk was infuriating, a casual mockery of the crisis unfolding right before him.

Thomas exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus back on Sarah. "What do they want?" he asked, his voice low but filled with tension.

"They..." Sarah's voice cracked, and she paused to steady herself. "They want to meet you. To talk."