023Brianna Pounds It felt like the knocking was entirely inside my head at first. It began as a soft, rhythmic rap, only to grow persistent and sharp, intensifying the rhythmic thumping behind my eyes. Groaning, I fought back with a low mumble, as if that could somehow silence the chaos. My head ached with a dull, heavy pulse, and the knocking wouldn't stop. “Brianna,” a voice called softly. Oh my fucking God. I grumbled, prying my eyes open against the intrusive harshness of the morning light. My heart picked up a frantic, pricking beat that felt strong enough to send me into a coma. I jolted upright, momentarily terrified by the brightness that I might have woken up in the afterlife. I heaved a jagged sigh of relief, finally filling my lungs with the air I had squeezed out in my fright. It wasn't that I didn’t miss Grandma, or even Darcy. No, I missed Darcy so much it was a physical weight. I wished the misery that took her hadn't happened, and that I could have walked beside
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