Forest

Content Warning: This chapter contains references to psychological trauma and past abuse. Reader discretion is advised

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She ran.

The ground was slick with mud and dead leaves. Her bare feet slipped and stumbled. Branches clawed at her arms. Her dress — once soft, now torn and filthy — clung to her like it didn’t want to let go.

She had no shoes. No direction.

Only fear carried her deeper into the woods.

The trees loomed like giants, their trunks thick and blackened like charcoal. Fog slithered between them, cold and shapeless. Every step she took echoed louder than the last.

Behind her:

Footsteps.

Steady. Unhurried.

And laughter.

That voice—

Rough. Sharp. Caught between pleasure and rage. It echoed through the trees like broken glass in her ears.

She dared a glance back.

He was there.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Wearing a gray tank top, soaked in sweat and stretched over his frame. His hair clung to his face. His eyes locked on hers.

He didn’t blink.

There was no expression on his face.

Not anger.

Not joy.

Just... obsession.

She tripped.

He was on her in seconds.

He pinned her down. His hands were rough. His breath burned.

The sound of her crying filled the space between the trees—

But no one came.

No one ever did.

His grip tore at her dress. His grin twisted.

And that laugh — louder now. Unhinged. Triumphant.

But for a moment—

Just one heartbeat—

His eyes looked…

Sad.

And then—

She woke up.

Gasping.

Her hands clenched soft white sheets. Her skin was slick with sweat. Her chest rose and fell in panicked bursts.

She was back in the bedroom.

Bright. Elegant.

Too clean to be real.

The chandelier above sparkled like nothing had ever gone wrong.

She sat there, frozen.

She couldn’t remember the man’s name.

She couldn’t remember where the forest was.

All she remembered—

was running.

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