Requiem

"What would you do if your past hunted you?"

"You can't outrun the past. It does not sleep. It does not forgive. It only waits."

The things that chase him are not ghosts. They do not wear the faces of the dead, nor do they whisper with familiar voices. They are something far worse-twisted forms stitched together from suffering itself. The things done to him. The things he refuses to name.

Every night, when the clock strikes, they rise from the shadows. Grinning maws that know his shame. Hands that reach for him like they did before. Voices that murmur what he's tried to forget. They do not want his life. They want his mind.

Because trauma does not die. It only takes form. And sooner or later, it becomes you.

© [Smiruna-Painira], [2025]. All rights reserved.
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