Fading with the Moon

A deep, suffocating void. That is all there is.

No pain, no warmth, no cold—just emptiness, stretching endlessly. I have no body, no voice, only the lingering sensation of despair, of regret.

Then, suddenly, there is something else. A pull, sharp and urgent, dragging me from that formless abyss. And then—

A gasp tears from my throat as I jolt upright.

Had I truly died? The last thing I remember is Lisa’s voice, cruel and mocking, her eyes gleaming with triumph as I lay there, bleeding out.

My hands scramble against soft sheets, my breathing ragged as my wide eyes dart around the dimly lit room. I know this room; it's my room from when I was still home.

"Maybe I'm in heaven." The thought fills me with equal parts sadness and relief. At least now I can see my family. I try to leave the bed, and my feet tangle in the sheets, making me fall on my face.

"Oww." Wait, I pause. People can't feel pain in heaven, right?

I stand and stare at the familiar sight—the desk covered in neatly stacked books, the window draped with soft cream-coloured curtains, the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. My heart pounds in my chest, disbelief crashing over me in waves.

I am alive? How?

I am supposed to be dead. I remember it clearly—the searing pain of the bullet tearing through my chest, the blood pooling beneath me, the icy grip of death dragging me under.

I press a trembling hand to my chest, expecting to feel the wound, the agony, but there is nothing. Only smooth skin, unbroken, unscarred.

“What... is this?” I whisper.

Is this a dream? A hallucination? Or—

I swallow hard. I know that in some cultures, people can have past lives and present lives. Am I dreaming, or did I get a second chance?

As if to answer my question, memories surge forward, crashing into me like a tidal wave.

The sharp, metallic tang of blood fills my mouth.

Lisa’s cold smile, her voice laced with venom.

“The reason your entire family is dead... was me.”

A choked gasp escapes me as I clutch my head, fragments of that final conversation stabbing through my mind like shards of glass. My father’s company, my mother’s heartbreak, my brother’s death—all orchestrated by her. My childhood best friend. The person I had trusted more than anyone.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my breath shuddering. It was real. All of it. And yet, here I am, alive. Before it all happens.

This isn’t a dream.

The thought paralyses me. My mind races, trying to grasp onto some logic, some reason for what is happening. I turn toward the mirror in the corner of my room, and my breath catches in my throat.

The reflection staring back at me is a version of myself I haven’t seen in years. My face is smooth, unlined by grief. My hair is longer, darker, and untainted by the exhaustion that once clung to me like a shadow. I look younger.

I glance frantically around until my eyes land on my phone resting on the bed. With trembling hands, I grab it and press the power button. The date flashes on the screen.

November 20, 2024.

Five years. I have gone back five years.

A strangled sound escapes me as I stagger backward, my hand clamping over my mouth. The world tilts. My family—they're alive. I am back before everything falls apart. Before my father’s company crumbles, before Lisa’s betrayal, before my mother and brother...

A sob tears through my throat.

I can change it. I can save them.

The realisation sends a surge of desperate hope through me, clearing the fog of disbelief. I push to my feet, barely aware of my trembling limbs as I rush out of my room. My heartbeat pounds in my ears as I descend the stairs, each step echoing like a drumbeat of fate. Voices float up from the kitchen—familiar voices.

I freeze at the bottom step, the sight before me causing my heart to squeeze painfully in my chest. There they are, my family. Sitting at the kitchen table, talking casually over breakfast as if everything is normal. As if the world hasn’t collapsed on them yet.

My father sits at the head of the table, his salt-and-pepper hair a little disheveled as he reads the newspaper. His face, though still carrying that quiet dignity, has a weariness I hadn’t noticed back then. A heaviness in his eyes, masked by the façade of strength he always wore for us. How did I not see it before?

Mom is bustling around the kitchen, flipping pancakes, the smell of butter and syrup filling the room. She looks younger, her smile so wide, so full of warmth. The woman who would later waste away in grief and sickness now stands before me, alive and whole.

And Brian. My brother, slouched over his cereal, his hair a mess, still groggy from sleep. He looks so young, so full of life and promise—before the weight of our family’s downfall crushed him.

I stand frozen in the doorway, tears slipping down my cheeks as I take them in, my heart bursting with love and sorrow all at once. I haven’t seen them in years, haven’t heard their voices, their laughter. I want to run to them, to hug them, to hold onto them and never let go.

“Anna?” My mother’s voice cuts through my thoughts, soft and puzzled. “Sweetheart, are you alright?”

They’re all staring at me now, my father looking up from his newspaper, Brian blinking at me in confusion, and my mother, her brow furrowed with concern.

I swallow hard, trying to compose myself, to remember that for them, everything is normal. The last time they saw me was just last night at dinner. For them, nothing has changed. But for me, everything has.

“I… I’m fine,” I manage to say, my voice thick with emotion. “I just… I had a really bad dream. A nightmare.”

My mother’s face softens, and she moves towards me, her arms open. “Oh, sweetheart. Come here.”

I step into her embrace, burying my face in her shoulder as she holds me close, the familiar scent of her perfume overwhelming me. I haven’t been held by her in so long. I haven’t felt her warmth, her love. I cling to her, my body shaking with silent sobs as I try to control the flood of emotions.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, stroking my hair like she used to when I was a child. “It was just a dream. You’re home now.”

Home. I’m home.

When I finally pull away, my father stands, his eyes soft but wary. There’s a sadness in his expression, one that I hadn’t understood back then but can see so clearly now. He’s scared. Scared for us, for the future. The company is collapsing, and with it, our family’s security.

I walk over to him, my heart aching as I see the weight he’s carrying. The weight that will eventually crush him. “Dad…” I whisper, reaching for his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll fix it. I’ll help you fix the company. Just… don’t do anything drastic. Please.”

He looks at me, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Anna, this isn’t something for you to worry about. You’re young—you should be living your life, not getting involved in this mess. Let me handle it.”

I can see in his eyes that he doesn’t believe me. He doesn’t think I can help. But I have seen what will happen if he tries to carry this burden alone. It will destroy him.

“I’m not a little girl anymore,” I say firmly, my voice steadier now. “I can help. Just… trust me.”

But he shakes his head, smiling sadly. “You’re my daughter, Anna. I love you. But leave this to me.”

I feel a flare of frustration, but I swallow it down. I can’t force him to believe me. Not yet. But my resolve hardens. I will save him. I will save all of them, no matter what it takes.

As I look around the kitchen, at my family—alive, whole—I make a silent vow. This time, things will be different.

This time, I won’t let them fall.