it just in time.
Shaking, she pressed her hands over her ears, trying to shut the voice out.
Finally, she grabbed her earphones, scrolled to her usual calming playlist, and played the softest tune she knew.
The music slowly drowned out the chaos in her head.
It was the only way she could fall asleep every night.
Damian walked into his apartment—grand, luxurious, everything a top actor could afford. The space was modern and spotless, lined with shelves displaying trophies, awards, and framed magazine covers. It was the kind of place that screamed success… yet it felt strangely empty.
He freshened up, changed into comfortable clothes, and sat on the edge of his king-sized bed. Reaching for a bottle on his nightstand, he took a couple of pills and drank water.
Just then, his phone buzzed.
Psychiatrist: "Damian, did you notice any changes with the new medication?"
Damian: "I don't think so… This scar—it still hurts."
(He lightly touched the faint mark on his neck. It was a birthmark in this life, but the pain was real. He didn't know why… only that it always flared up after certain dreams.)
Psychiatrist: "Alright. Let's meet tomorrow. I'll take another look and we'll try adjusting the prescription."
Damian: "Okay."
They hung up.
He let out a long breath and lay back on the bed, staring at the chandelier above. For a moment, the soft glow almost soothed him—until sleep took over.
DREAM SEQUENCE BEGINS
In the haze of his dream, he saw a girl approaching him. Her face was blurred, like a smudged painting. She reached out a hand.
Suddenly, the sharp pain in his neck flared. He gasped.
DREAM ENDS
Damian jolted awake, clutching his neck.
Damian (frustrated, under his breath): "Not again…"
Without hesitation, he reached for another bottle—this one for sleep and pain. He swallowed a pill and lay back down, eyes open for a long while before darkness finally pulled him in again.