I don’t know what time it is when the nightmares start. There are no windows in the safe room, no way to track the passage of time beyond the relentless fluorescent lights. Could be midnight, could be dawn. In this concrete box, time loses meaning. The dream is always the same. Father’s study. The night he died. Except in the dream, I’m there. Watching. He’s at his desk, signing papers, unaware of the shadow moving behind him. The shadow has no face, just darkness and intent. It moves closer, something glinting in its hand. A syringe. I try to scream, try to warn him, but no sound comes out. My feet are rooted to the floor, my body frozen. The shadow strikes. Father jerks, gasps, clutches at his chest. His eyes find mine across the room. Help me, he mouths. Elena, help me. But I can’t move. Can only watch as he slumps forward, life draining from his eyes. Blood pools on the desk, impossibly red, spreading like spilled wine. The shadow turns to me. Still faceless, still formles
Last Updated : 2025-06-27 Read more