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⚠️ CONTENT ADVISORY ⚠️
This chapter contains scenes of
💉 violence, 🩸 blood, &🧠 psychological tension.
Reader discretion is strongly advised.
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Trying to sleep better tonight... but no use.
Even my clothes hanging on the hanger look like a ghost.
"Ughh! Please don't kill me first, ghost! If you have to kill someone, then kill the criminals, not me!!"
With my scared little heart and endless God prayers, I somehow manage to fall asleep around 2 A.M.
---
Someone's coming.
Footsteps.
Clack... clack... clack...
The sound gets clearer and clearer.
I want to scream, but I can't.
I know it's a dream—but I can't wake up.
Then—mmm-hhh—a deep, creepy chuckle brushes against my ear.
My vision goes blurry. I'm walking somewhere... deeper... darker.
A red dim light glows ahead.
When I reach the room, I see flesh on the table.
Amara sits on a bench, tied with rods.
Lyra, Lyrics, and Lucas are beside her—ropes cutting into their arms.
Thick red marks circle their skin, tightening, pressing deeper... deeper… almost into their veins.
Amara's breathing is fast. Too fast.
And then—another chuckle.
A voice, low and broken, **whispers** right into my ear—
> "Run~"
My body moves on its own.
I'm running—fast, too fast.
I want to scream, to cry, to wake up—but nothing works.
The hallway stretches forever.
Blood splashes on the walls.
Thick, warm, dripping. Some of it hits me.
Far behind, I hear Amara's voice scream—
but I can't look back.
I trip over something. My hand lands on… a hand.
Cold. Wet . Dead.
I look up.
Someone's standing in front of me.
A figure wearing a wolf **mask**—its fur looks too real, like it was once part of something alive.
The voice **crawls** out of the **mask**, deep and low—
> "Cooome… to me… I'll make you… so happy… happy enough to scream… forever."
> "One cut… just one… and everything will end… perfectly."
I start trembling, heart pounding.
---
Then I feel someone behind me—tugging gently at my top.
A soft whimper.
Draven's voice, shakingbut small, —
> "Hey, topper... my witch... please do something. I can't breathe."
Even in a nightmare, he's still an idiot.
In my head, I groan, "Uhh, even here he's annoying."
But then—his chest presses against my back.
Warm. Solid. Comforting.
Not scary. Somehow, it makes my heart flutter.
His hands clutch my top, soaked with blood, but I can't help feeling… safe.
"L-let's try to get out," I whisper.
The figure tilts its head.
Its voice breaks apart, twisting my name—
> "Try… and die… E… L… I… N… A…"
> "Elina. Elina. Elina."
It says my name again and again—like a madman.
Then it bends down and bites into a chunk of raw meat.
Squelch… cleech…
The sound makes my skin crawl.
The flesh shifts, turning human.
Without thinking, Draven and I start running.
Our hands interlock.
There's a light ahead—bright, warm—but no matter how fast we run, we never reach it.
Our breaths grow louder, heavier. Huff… huff…
And then—something grabs Draven.
> "No! No, no, no!!" I scream.
He's not even that close to me, just a troublemaker.
But still—I want to save him why he not special right? Ofcourse he not i- i not like him at all not at all.
A voice whispers, cruel and slow—
> "You can't save anyone… E…L…I…N…A…"
The figure's face appears again—half burned, "wormscrawling through its eyes."
It raises something sharp.
Painslices my shoulder—just a small cut—
And I jolt awake.
---
"Huff… huff… what the hell was that?!"
I press my hand to my shoulder. No blood. Just sweat.
"That **dream** was too creepy. Even that stupid buffalo-faced thing—ugh!"
I glance at the clock. 4:30 A.M.
Way too early.
I knock on my parents' room.
> "Mumma… I wanna sleep in your room today. I had bad dreams…"
My mom yawns.
> "That's why I told you to stop watching so many horror movies and crime shows, Elina."
I crawl into her arms, finally feeling safe.
And Draven's warm presence from the dream still makes me shiver a little… in a good way.
For now, the nightmare fades away.