Dance Partners || N.NK ||

Part 46/S2

With a heavy head and unanswered questions swirling in your mind, sleep came quickly.

But peace didn't last long.

A strange heat coursed through your body—unfamiliar and unsettling.
It wasn't pain, but an unbearable warmth, like fire simmering beneath your skin.
You shifted under the blankets, your breath growing uneven.
The discomfort making it impossible to rest.

Slowly, your eyes fluttered open.

The full moon shone through the parted curtains, casting a pale glow across the room.
The world outside was silent, but inside, your body felt restless, burning from within.

You tossed and turned, seeking relief.
But no position, no amount of movement, helped.

Then, a sudden gust of cold air slipped through the open window, wrapping around you.
Goosebumps prickled along your arms, yet the feverish heat remained.

Your instincts kicked in—you raised a shaky hand to your forehead, It was burning up.
What was wrong with you?
The sensation was overwhelming and unfamiliar.
A strange kind of exhaustion weighed on you, yet you couldn't sit still.

With a deep breath, you pushed the blankets aside and stood up from the bed, your feet unsteady against the cold floor.
Your gaze landed on the wardrobe across the room—untouched, yet clean.
You stepped toward it, fingers brushing against the wooden doors before pulling them open.

Inside, a row of clothes hung, untouched for years, yet somehow dust free.

However, even if everything was right at eye level, your eyes just seem to refuse to acknowledge anything else except for the black hoodie hung right in the middle of everything else.
It fully captured attention, as if it were the most meaningful item of your life.
Something about it just called to you—an inexplicable pull.
It held a meaning you couldn't grasp.

Without thinking, you reached for it and slipped it over your head.
The warmth of the fabric enveloped you immediately, but instead of comfort, it only fueled the strange burning sensation spreading through your body.

You exhaled sharply, your breathing a little shaky.

Maybe a walk outside would help.
Maybe the cold night air would clear your head.

You walked out the door of your room, your steps slower than of a turtle.

The wood under your light steps creaked while you walked downs the stairs.
Your eyes were fixed on the ground beneath you but they quickly shifted to one of the picture frames that was hung against the wall.
It was shaking—on itself.
You were alone, all the windows outside your bedroom were closed.
So there was no chance that the frame would be moving from a gush of wind.

"What the..." you muttered, a new type of feeling creeping over your chest—the feeling of fear.
You shakily moved your hand toward the frame, wanting to hang it straight on the wall.
But just a second before you even touched the wood of the frame, it collapsed to the floor, shattering into a millions of pieces.

You screamed loud in trauma, hearing the sound of the glass breaking.
You hated it—the sound of glass shattering.

The now broken picture—it stared back at you.
The only part that was still recognisable was the gaze of the small girl sitting behind a birthday cake.

As you stared at the broken photo lying on the stairs, a blurry image flickered in your mind, as if a long-buried memory was struggling to resurface.
You wanted to remember it, you wanted to know everything about it, yet a part of you hesitated.
You were still too afraid to uncover the truth.

You slowly lowered yourself onto your knees, reaching for a piece of the shattered frame, but the moment your fingers brushed against it, a sharp sliver of glass sliced into your skin.
"TSS!" you hissed from the sudden sensation of pain piercing through your skin.

You had never felt such type of pain for as long as your brain could remember.
And seeing the crimson droplets of blood trickle down your finger only fed your growing fear.

You stood up abruptly, thinking you would be more hurt if you stayed even a second more in the house.
Your heart pounded as you bolted down the remaining stairs and out the front door into the pitch-black night.

You ran wherever your feet carried you, never once looking back at the house.
You ran and ran, fighting the shortness of breath, until your knees fell weak.

And before you knew it, you were hundreds of miles far away from your house.
"W-What's  T-This..." you whispered to yourself, your sentence coming out as stuttered due to lack of oxygen.

You now stood barefoot on the cold surface of a bridge, the rough texture pressing hard against your skin.
The wind howled past you, sweeping strands of your hair across your face, momentarily obscuring your vision.

And just like that—when your sight cleared—a man appeared, walking toward you from the opposite direction.

Who could it be? Just a stranger, right?

He was tall, his hair slicked back, and his eyes were too distant to make out.
But as he drew closer, his features sharpened—his eyes, cold and piercing—yet unmistakably familiar.
In those eyes, something flickered.
Something unreadable.
Something that made your breath hitch.

~ CLIFF HANGER