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RYLEE HANSON (narrative and short insta)
It started innocently enough, just me at the rink, tying my skates and getting ready for a game. The air felt crisp, like I could still hear the buzz of the crowd in the background, but it wasn't loud, it was calm. Then it turned cold. The kind of chill that sticks to your skin, makes it feel like you can't escape.
I glanced up, and there he was—my dad. His face was twisted in that same disappointed way, his eyes sharp, cutting through me.
"You'll never be good enough. You think one goal changes that? You're pathetic, Rylee."
I felt my stomach drop, and suddenly, I wasn't at the rink anymore. I was back in the kitchen of our old house, the one I hadn't been in since I left. His voice was louder now, and every word felt like a weight pressing down on my chest.
I tried to speak, tried to say something back as he raised his fist, but my mouth wouldn't work. My body wouldn't move. I was frozen, and the more I fought it, the bigger he got, the darker the room became.
I couldn't breathe.
And then—
I woke up.
Gasping for air, my heart pounding so hard I could barely catch my breath. I sat up quickly, my body drenched in sweat, the sheets twisted around my legs. The darkness in the room pressed in on me, making everything feel suffocating.
I could still hear his voice in my head.
I ran my hands over my face, trying to shake it off, trying to remind myself that it was just a nightmare, that it wasn't real. But my chest still felt tight, my ribs aching like they were being crushed.
"Rylee?"
I froze, my heart stuttering when I heard Nika's voice. She was sitting up next to me, her eyes wide in the dim light, and I could tell right away that she was concerned.
I didn't want her to see me like this. Didn't want to tell her what was wrong.
"I'm fine," I managed to say, but even I knew it didn't sound convincing.
"Rylee," she said again, her voice a little firmer this time. She reached out and touched my arm, her fingers warm against my skin. "What's wrong?"
I couldn't stop the tremble that went through me. "It's nothing, really. I'm fine."
Nika didn't look convinced. She scooted closer to me, her hand gently rubbing my back. I wanted to pull away. I didn't want to tell her about my dad, about the nightmare. I didn't want to feel weak.
"You had a nightmare, didn't you?" she asked softly.
