Butterfly Effect

63. Darkest Truth, "Part 3"

Her mind raced, trying to recall the events leading up to this eerie emptiness.

How did she end up here? Where was everyone? Questions flooded her thoughts, but answers eluded her. Frustration mixed with fear, urging her to take action.

Pushing herself off the cold, hard surface beneath her, she stood up on shaky legs. The room was eerily bare, devoid of any personal belongings or any clue as to her whereabouts.

A flicker of memory teased her mind, a vague recollection of a peaceful evening before everything went dark. But the details remained frustratingly out of reach.

As she stumbled towards the door, a chilling breeze brushed against her exposed skin, causing goosebumps to erupt.

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, she wasn't just alone, she was trapped.

The weight on her heart grew heavier, suffocating her with each passing second.

With trembling hands, she reached for the doorknob, praying for a way out. But as she turned it, a disheartening click echoed through the room. The door remained stubbornly locked, sealing her fate within this enigmatic prison.

Desperation threatened to consume her, making her question her own sanity.

Time became a blur as she explored every corner, every crevice, desperately searching for an escape route. But as the minutes turned into hours, hope began to fade.

Doubt crept in, whispering in her ear that she may never find her way back to reality.

A weight settled upon her heart, causing her eyes to abruptly snap open, and a surge of uncontrollable gasps erupted from her chest.

Without thinking, she instinctively turned her head towards the side, only to find an empty void beside her.

She blinked, trying to adjust her vision to the dimly lit room. Panic washed over her as she realized she was alone.

Frantically, her gaze darted around, searching for any signs of life or familiarity. But all she encountered were cold walls and a deafening silence that seemed to suffocate her.

That panic lasted a mere moment longer before she jutted her dainty hand out onto her bedside table, and snatched the small device from it.

The harsh light of the screen illuminated her perspired face, she pushed through the knot in her stomach and clicked onto her contacts, finding that one number.

The line rung for a total of two rings until it eventually connected, she didn't wait for the voice to melt into her psyche, her vulnerable murmur drifting through first.

"I had the dream again." Or was it a nightmare?

She could hear the faint sound of the person on the other end clearing their throat, a familiar voice that always brought her a sense of comfort. "Tell me everything," he replied gruffly, his tone filled with concern and understanding.

As she began to recount the vivid details of the dream, her voice trembled with a mix of fear and desperation. The nightmares had been plaguing her sleep for weeks, leaving her feeling drained and restless. Each night, the same haunting images would play out in her mind, leaving her questioning her sanity.

"It felt so real this time," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "The darkness, the suffocating sense of dread... I can't shake it off anymore. It's consuming me."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, as if the person on the receiving end was carefully choosing their words. "You're not alone in this," he finally said, their voice filled with reassurance. "Remember, dreams are just fragments of our subconscious. They can't hurt you."