"Have mercy! Please—let me out of here! Let me out!" Leah's voice rang out in the darkness as she pounded desperately on the coffin enclosing her.
"Help me! Someone, please!" She screamed, her fists slamming against the wooden lid until they ached.
The inside of the coffin was pitch-black, cramped, and suffocating. Panic surged through her chest. Could no one hear her?
Her breath hitched. Her body trembled with fear. It wasn't a dream. She was really buried—alive.
A jolt made her whole body shift. She realized they were lowering her into the ground.
Then—thuds.
Dirt.
She could hear it hitting the coffin above her.
They're burying me alive. The thought exploded in her mind like a scream.
"No! Please don't do this! What have I done to deserve this?" Her voice cracked, raw from crying and screaming. "Please… for heaven's sake!"
She scratched and clawed at the lid. Blood pooled beneath her fingernails. Her air was running out. Her vision blurred with tears. Her strength was fading, but she couldn't stop.
Why?
Why are they doing this to me?
I was a good person... a good wife... I never wronged them.
The weight of betrayal crushed her heart more than the dirt above her ever could.
Is this really how I die?
What did I do wrong?
Silence answered.
The oxygen was nearly gone. Her chest burned. Her limbs felt like stone. Her vision darkened. Her tears were the last things that escaped before the end took hold.
Sharlene gasped and jolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat. Her heart was racing. She clutched her chest and sucked in deep breaths, trying to remind herself, I'm alive.
It was that dream again.
She closed her eyes tightly and massaged her temples. Her head throbbed, and her hands were shaking.
Leah.
That was the only name she ever remembered from the dream.
And yet—she didn't know anyone named Leah. Not in real life.
She turned toward the clock. It was almost 4:00 AM. Sharlene sighed and climbed out of bed. It was too early, but she might as well start her day.
She headed to the bathroom, splashed her face with cold water, and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. The crying woman's face—pale and soaked with tears—flashed in her mind.
Sharlene shook her head and whispered, "Don't interfere… Mind your own business."
Still, the dreams kept coming. For weeks now.
She turned away from the mirror and headed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for her daughter. Her husband, as usual, wasn't home—too busy with work at the company, she told herself.
Her life was simple. Quiet. Routine. She worked as a high school teacher at a private university. She cooked, cleaned, and cared for her daughter. It was enough.
At nearly five o'clock, she gently tapped her daughter's shoulder.
"Ash, time to wake up."
Her five-year-old daughter stirred and smiled. "Good morning, Mom."
"Good morning, sweetheart. Let's shower so we can go to school early, okay?"
Ashley nodded and grabbed their towels. They bathed together, laughing softly as they got ready.
Sharlene cooked their breakfast and packed their lunch.
"Mom, when will Dad come home?" Ashley asked between spoonfuls.
Sharlene hesitated. She couldn't lie, but she didn't want to worry her child.
"I'm not sure, baby. He's busy at work. But he'll come home when he can."
Ashley looked down, then offered her mother a small, understanding smile.
After breakfast, they left the house and waited for a jeepney to take them to the university. It was still early, so there was plenty of space inside.
As they approached the school gates, students were already trickling in. Sharlene dropped Ashley off at daycare and headed to the faculty room.
She set her things down and began arranging her desk. Just as she was about to sit, her phone rang.
"Hello?" she answered.
The voice on the other line was solemn.
"Grandma is dead."
Sharlene froze. "What…?"
"We don't know how it happened," the voice said.
She sank into her chair, the phone still pressed to her ear. The news rang in her ears, loud and numbing.
Her world—once quiet and steady—had just shifted.