Prologue

The storm raged, relentless and unforgiving, a symphony of thunder and pouring rain that drowned the world in chaos. My footsteps splashed through puddles, frantic and heavy, as if the earth itself trembled under their weight. The darkness was alive with motion—trees loomed ahead, skeletal figures swaying in the wind. Each breath burned, each step was a desperate lunge forward. And then, there were the voices.

They came like ghosts, disembodied and accusing, their words more painful than the icy rain slicing through the air.

“Promise me you’ll never leave me.”
“I thought you were doing this for me.”
“I should’ve never trusted you.”
“Why did you let this happen?”

Their tones were different, yet united in one terrible conclusion: "This is all your fault!"

The cacophony built to an unbearable crescendo, a crashing wave of sound and memory threatening to consume everything—until it all stopped. Silence, sudden and absolute, was shattered only by the piercing blare of an alarm clock.

The hum of reality returned, ordinary and mundane, yet suffocating in its familiarity. Red numbers blinked on the clock’s face. The room stirred awake, revealing scattered glimpses of a life: a dresser cluttered with belongings, a desk adorned with an aging computer and a few sports trophies, and a framed photo on the wall of five smiling faces.

I laid there in bed, my chest heaving as though I’d run miles, my eyes wide with the weight of something unspoken. I stared at the ceiling, the alarm’s sharp cry reverberating in the stillness.

I whispered, voice laced with dread, “Not again.”