"He's hot," Sarah slurred, pointing at a tall, handsome man standing just outside the club we had just stumbled out of.

I could already tell by the glint in her eyes that she wanted to head back in. She had that mischievous look on her face-the same one I'd seen a thousand times since we were kids, whenever she was up to something.

"Don't you think, Anne?" she added with a giggle, swaying slightly on her feet, her hair catching the neon lights from the club's entrance.

I hummed in response, absently kneading my fingers against my purse. It had been a fun girls' night out, but it was already past midnight, and worry was starting to creep in. I was never out this late anymore-at least not since my college days.

Corporate life had boxed me into a monotonous routine of early mornings and late nights hunched over a desk, and messing that up with a wild night felt... unsettling.

"Stop being so tense, the cab is nearly here," Sarah mumbled, leaning into my side and handing me her clutch. The smell of vodka and tonic practically radiated off her.

I rolled my eyes, pursing my lips as I tried not to laugh. "I could have just stayed home with my Drew Barrymore movies, a tub of ice cream, and called it a night, it's been three months since you and Jason broke up, and you're still not over it."

Sarah let out a dramatic groan and tossed her head back, folding her sunburned arms across her chest.

"Oh, right, Miss Ice Heart giving me breakup advice," she teased, shaking her head with mock disapproval.

"I dated Oliver in senior year!" I protested, though my voice lacked conviction. I was already bored of my own argument.

Sarah squinted at me, her lips curving into a mischievous smirk. "The guy I dared you to kiss and you only dated because you felt guilty?"

Ugh. That memory hit like a punch to the gut. I should have known better than to bring up Oliver.

"Okay, I thought you were drunk? Why do you remember so much tonight?"

"I'm not drunk," Sarah insisted with a giggle, stomping her heels against the pavement in a playful tantrum.

She knew how much I hated when she brought up the Oliver dare, and I could already see the wheels turning in her head, planning to bring up more embarrassing high school moments.

I held up my hands in surrender, laughing despite myself.

"Alright, truce. I won't comment on how you handle breakups ever again," I said, knowing when I was cornered. Despite my reluctance to stay out this late, I knew Sarah needed this night-just the two of us, getting wasted and laughing ourselves silly, like we used to.

"Good," she declared with a triumphant nod, letting out her signature giggle, the one that always made me smile no matter how annoyed I was.

"I just want you to know I care about you," I said, glancing down the street. It had been over ten minutes since we'd called the Uber, and my frustration was creeping back.

I had a presentation at work tomorrow and I couldn't afford to be late. I definitely didn't want a repeat of last month's close call with my boss.

A small frown flickered between Sarah's light brown brows. "You're the most impatient person I know," she sighed, popping her knuckles-a habit that made me wince every time.

"I hate it when you do that," I groaned, shuddering at the sound.

"I know," she teased, cracking another knuckle just to annoy me. "That's why I do it."

I shook my head, pretending to be annoyed, but deep down, I couldn't help but laugh.

As I looked down the street, I noticed how alive the city still was, even at this hour. People hurried past in their winter coats, their breath visible in the chilly air, while others strolled in bold outfits-clashing colors and daring styles that reminded me of Sarah's hot pink and neon blue getup. She had always been the life of the party, even when the party didn't make sense.

"I had fun tonight," I blurted out unexpectedly, a genuine smile creeping across my face-something that didn't come easily to me.

Before Sarah could respond, a red four-door car finally pulled up in front of us. I glanced at the license plate to make sure it was the Uber we'd called.

"Finally," I sighed in relief, yanking the door open and sliding into the backseat. Sarah followed with a dramatic whoop of excitement, barely getting into the car before bursting into a fit of giggles, clearly still riding the high of the night.

"Whoo-hoo!" she squealed, and I couldn't help but laugh with her, even as our Uber driver shot us a weary look in the rearview mirror. The laughter spilled out of us, bubbling over until our stomachs ached and tears streamed down our faces.

We couldn't stop, even though we knew we were probably annoying the driver. But in that moment, I didn't care. It was just me and Sarah, laughing away the weight of the world.

We giggled all the way to Sarah's apartment, lost in our own little bubble, blissfully unaware.

***

"Oh, my sweet old bed," I murmured quietly as I dragged myself down the hallway, my feet heavy with the weight of a long day.

The dim light in the hallway flickered, casting long, tired shadows as I sauntered toward my room. I felt a sigh of relief slip from my lips as I reached the door, like I was finally close to sanctuary.

I almost ran to the door, my hand hovering over the knob, as if I could shut the world out by simply stepping into the soft, familiar cocoon of my room.

My eyes darted away from the bundle of paperwork that sat on the hallway table, a silent testament to years of things left undone. It had grown into a monument of my procrastination, piled high, like some kind of absurd, paper fortress.

I imagined my little niece-barely five-building a skyscraper with it, her tiny hands stacking the papers with a mischievous grin, unaware of the chaos I let fester.

But none of that mattered now. The bed was calling, and the pull was irresistible. I could almost feel the worn-out comforter enveloping me, the pillows cradling my head.

Sarah was fast asleep at her apartment just a few streets away, which brought me a small sense of relief. She had been pretty hammered by the time I dropped her off, slurring her words with that lazy smile she gets when she's had one too many.

I knew she'd be fine, probably passed out cold, but at least she was safe.

Mom always said it was silly that we never considered living together. She thought we'd be perfect roommates, but she didn't understand the reality of Sarah and me sharing one space.

The idea of it made me shudder.

Sarah is great-my best friend, really-but she's also a complete control freak when it comes to cleanliness. She has this borderline obsessive need for everything to be just right: towels folded a certain way, dishes immediately washed and dried, pillows fluffed at perfect angles.

We learned the hard way that living together wasn't an option.

A couple of years ago, we went on a trip to Bali. It was supposed to be this fun, carefree vacation, but after two days of sharing a room. I thought I was going to lose my mind.

Every morning, she'd get up early, straightening the sheets with military precision before I even opened my eyes. She'd wipe down the bathroom sink after every use, scolding me for leaving toothpaste smudges on the faucet.

By the end of the trip, we had to book a separate room just to get through the last few days without killing each other.

It was funny, looking back now, but at the time, it felt like we were tiptoeing around each other, trying not to ignite another petty argument over something trivial.

Since then, we've both agreed-best friends, yes. Roommates? Never again.

I grabbed the magazine I had been browsing two days earlier, my eyes immediately landing on the stunning burgundy coat that had captivated me since I first spotted it. The deep, rich hue seemed to pull me in, a warm promise against the chill of the world outside.

I had been whining about going home to catch a few hours of sleep, but for some reason, I couldn't shake the feeling of restlessness that had settled over me.

With a frustrated groan, I lay back, the silence stretching around me like a heavy blanket, suffocating and unyielding. Something had to give; I needed to distract myself. I wasn't even tired from all the drinking and dancing I just an hour ago-my body still buzzed with energy, adrenaline pumping through my veins.

If sleep wasn't an option, I might as well do something productive. I could run on coffee later, just like I always did.

My gaze drifted to my laptop, peeking out from the corner of my desk drawer, half-hidden among crumpled papers and empty takeout containers. Tossing the magazine aside, I fished out the old laptop, its well-worn surface a familiar comfort in this chaotic moment.

Perfect, I thought. I needed to redo a couple of slides for the upcoming presentation anyway; it would keep my hands busy and my mind occupied.

I flicked it open, the screen lighting up with a soft glow as I navigated through my files, pulling up the presentation I had been avoiding.

I started to proofread the notes my coworkers had put together, the familiar language of work settling over me like a safety net. Before I knew it, my fingers began to tap rapidly against the keys, a manic rhythm taking over as I revised every single slide I could see, my focus sharpening with each edit.

Hours slipped by unnoticed, the world outside becoming a distant hum. The clamor of the city seeped through my window-a blend of honking horns, distant voices, and the occasional siren-a constant reminder that life continued beyond my walls.

Normally, I'd drown out that noise with music, letting the rhythm guide me, but tonight it morphed into something oddly comforting, like white noise wrapping around me, allowing me to lose myself in the task at hand. I was immersed, head down.

Just as I hovered over the "send" button on the email I'd carefully crafted for Gene-my impossibly uptight boss-my phone buzzed loudly beside me.

The sudden vibration broke my focus, and I glanced down, a frown creasing my forehead. Confusion settled in as I stared at the screen, my hand pausing over the keyboard.

It was Mom. The clock read 4 a.m., an odd and unsettling time for her to call. My heart skipped a beat as I grabbed the phone, pressing it to my ear.

"Hello? Ma?" I whispered, my voice quiet but strained, tension already building in my chest.

"Oh, my baby..." Her voice cracked, a loud, broken gasp that instantly set off alarms in my mind. Something was wrong-very wrong.

My heart raced, faster than I could keep up with, as if my body already knew the gravity of what I was about to hear.

"What's happening?" I demanded, my voice louder now, sharper. My nails-the acrylics I had gotten done a month ago-tapped anxiously against the desk, the sharp sound doing nothing to calm the chaos swirling in my mind. My thoughts raced, wild with possibilities, none of them good.

There was a pause, one too long, too heavy.

"..... Oh, Tommy, you do it," Mom choked out through her sobs. Her voice was shaking, thick with grief, and I could hear muffled whispers and the sound of shuffling in the background.

Every passing second felt like a knife twisting in my gut, the dread deepening with each beat of silence. Then I heard my brother's voice.

"Hey, Bear," he said softly.

It had been almost two years since he last called me that, and the sound of that old nickname, so rarely spoken now, sent a new wave of anxiety crashing over me. This wasn't some overblown panic or one of Mom's usual dramatic cries for attention. This was something real-something serious.

"Just tell me, Tom," I snapped, the words trembling out of me as fear clenched my throat. "Why is Mom crying? What's going on?"

My eyes blurred, tears already welling up, my hand trembling so badly that I could barely keep the phone steady.

There was a heartbeat of silence, then Tom's voice broke the moment.

"...Dad got into a car crash."

It was as if the floor dropped out from under me. My chest seized, a raw, brutal pain tearing through me, so sudden and overwhelming that I couldn't even scream.

The words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. My face went cold, draining all the color, while tears poured down my cheeks unchecked.

I could feel the blood pounding in my temples, a relentless, pulsing throb that matched the sharp claws of agony gripping me from the inside.

"He's gone Bear"

Tom's voice wavered, thick with the effort to hold back tears, and I could almost feel the weight of his pain pouring through the end of the line. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, my breaths coming uneven as the ground beneath me seemed to shift with every inhale, flipping my world on its head.

I was trying to breathe through the pain, but it was impossible-nothing could have prepared me for this. Dad was gone. The world tilted, spinning out of control, and all I could do was gasp in the wake of the devastation that had just ripped through my life.

Sobs tore through me, uncontrollable and raw, and no amount of comfort could ease the frantic gasping. It was a desperate cry, aching with the truth-Dad is dead. The one person who truly believed in me was gone, and I never imagined he'd leave without a final goodbye.

The pain crushed me like a tidal wave, relentless and overwhelming. My room spun in an endless loop, and just when I thought I'd found a moment of calm, the memory of Dad hit me again, reigniting the anguish as sharply as before.

"Bear... Bear, listen," Tom's voice broke through the storm in my head, shaky, fragile, like he was barely holding himself together.

I could hear the strain in every word, like he was swallowing down his own grief to be strong for me.

"Come home, you shouldn't be alone right now," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

The idea of Mom and Tom there, together at the hospital, going through this nightmare without me, tore at my insides.

I pictured them standing in that sterile, cold room-both of them devastated, crushed by the weight of this tragedy. The thought of them enduring it without me, without us being together, made my heart twist painfully.

Oh God, this is too much. I sobbed quietly to myself, trying to hold on, but everything was slipping, crumbling beneath me.

"I'm booking a flight today," I gasped through the tears, my voice a broken whisper. I had to get home-I couldn't stay here, not with this agony, not with the empty space where Dad was supposed to be.

My fingers shook as I clutched the phone, the reality sinking in deeper with every breath. I needed to be with them and to face this together.

"I love you, Anne," Tom whispered, his voice cracking as he lost the battle to keep it together.

He choked on the words, and I could hear his sob through the phone, raw and helpless.

"I love you too, Tommy," I whispered back, my throat tight with the words.

Tears streamed down my face as I hung up the call, the silence that followed suffocating and unbearable.

I sat there for a moment, phone still clutched in my hand, staring at the screen as the enormity of what just happened settled over me like a crushing weight.

Dad was gone.

The words echoed in my mind, hollow and cruel. I clung to the edges of my sanity, but the pain was too deep, flooding every corner of my being. There was no escaping it, no shelter. When was the last time I even told my Dad I love him?

My thoughts spiraled, and my world blurred, flickering between moments of numbness and gut-wrenching sorrow.

I'd gasp for air, thinking maybe I could push the grief away, only for it to crash over me again, relentlessly, dragging me back under.

My heart jagged as I closed my eyes and tossed my phone across the room, cracking it to pieces.

I felt so lost, the pain wouldn't stop.

It was as though the world had split in two-the life I had with him and this new, unbearable existence without him.

And I wasn't sure how to survive in this one.

I stared blankly at the ceiling, its stark whiteness blurred through the haze of tears that kept running down my face. Time felt meaningless, like it had stopped the moment I got the news.

The ticking of the clock beside me was maddeningly slow, each second stretching into eternity, yet somehow it was already close to five in the morning.

My stomach churned, sick with grief, the weight of it pressing down on me so hard I thought I might break.

Without thinking, I found myself getting up, my body moving on autopilot.

My feet dragged me toward the door, fingers fumbling for my car keys, the need to escape was overwhelming.

I yanked off the clothes I had worn earlier with Sarah, feeling the fabric tear under the pressure of my hands.

It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered except getting out. Away from this suffocating silence. Away from the memories that clung to every corner of this place.

This apartment, once my sanctuary, now felt like a graveyard of memories. Every inch of it echoed with reminders of Dad-his laughter, his voice, the way he'd always make himself at home during his visits, as if it were his place as much as mine

Those moments felt like a lifetime ago, like someone else's story that I'd stumbled into. Now, those memories twisted the knife deeper. The thought that he'd never walk through that door again, never sit in that worn chair by the window, never laugh with me over bad takeout... it was too much.

I needed to go somewhere, anywhere that wasn't here.

I had to find a place where the memories wouldn't suffocate me, where I could let the tears fall without feeling like the walls were closing in. A place where I could scream, cry, and somehow make sense of a world where Dad no longer existed.
walks out of the apartment:

I reached for the door handle, and a gust of icy wind howled, stabbing through my coat and into my bones.

It felt like the world itself was grieving with me, a constant, numbing ache.

I had to call Sarah, I thought, but the idea felt distant, buried beneath the weight in my chest.

I pushed the thought away and stepped out into the night. My limbs felt heavy, as if the sorrow itself had rooted in my muscles, dragging me down.

Each step toward the car felt more surreal, like walking through a nightmare where nothing felt real, not even the sidewalk under my feet. The door to the apartment closed behind me, sealing me off from everything familiar-except the hollow pain that clung to me, relentless.

I pulled the car door open, but something made me hesitate. My eyes were drawn to the back seat, to something out of place.

A book. No, not just a book-it was old, bound in weathered leather, glowing with an unnatural, ghostly green light. My heart stuttered in my chest, confusion mingling with the grief. The patterns on the cover were shifting, moving as if they were alive, like some dream that shouldn't exist in the real world.

I blinked, trying to clear my head. I hadn't bought a book recently-especially not one like this. Not in this world, or the next. And yet, there it was.

My pulse quickened, the knot of anxiety in my stomach growing heavier.

I was too tired for this. Too empty. But I couldn't stop myself. Maybe curiosity, or maybe desperation, drove me as I slid into the driver's seat. The door slammed shut just as rain began to pour outside, drowning out the world in a torrent.

The temperature inside the car plummeted, the air so cold that each breath came out in sharp, misty puffs. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat, fear and grief mixing until I couldn't tell the difference. But still, I couldn't tear my eyes from the book.

In an instant, every memory flooded me, each one sharp and aching.

As I held the book, my mind wandered-unbidden-back to my dad. Mom. Tommy. My family.

I saw Dad's smile, heard his laugh, and felt the warmth of his hugs. My heart clenched with the pain, the grief twisting inside me.

How could he be gone? How could everything feel so wrong?

I screamed, I needed to push the pain away, the sound tearing from my throat, raw and desperate. But nothing changed. I was still sitting there, alone in the car, and the world outside felt as fake and hollow as the one inside me.

My head was spinning, empty, consumed by the weight of it all. I wanted to run, to hide, and to just disappear.

Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the book, my hands moving over its cover almost on their own.

The gold clock design in the center seemed to pulse under my touch.

Before I could make sense of anything, the car jerked violently, spinning out of control.

Everything outside dissolved into a chaotic whirl of blurs and colors, fusing together like the inside of a kaleidoscope.

I tried to scream, but there was a heavy lump lodged in my throat, choking me. I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

And then, in an instant, the car was gone. Everything vanished. I was weightless, drifting, hovering like a canoe carried away by a river, helpless against the current. It felt like I was dying, the fear gripping me, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst.

I can't die. Not yet. My family needs me.

But I was slipping away, the darkness pulling me under, wrapping around me like icy tendrils. Just when I thought I would shatter under the weight of it all, a flash of lightning cut through the void-bright and blinding, illuminating everything for a single, searing moment.

Then, without warning, I felt it-a force, powerful and unrelenting, dragging me down. It wasn't just inside me anymore; it was outside too, pulling at my limbs, my skin, like a thousand invisible hands clawing at me, tearing me apart.

My body jerked violently, and a searing pain shot through me.

I screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the abyss, lost in the void. My chest constricted, the air forced from my lungs as if something was crushing me from the inside.

It felt like I was being ripped to shreds, each piece of me unraveling slowly, agonizingly.

My arms felt like they were being pulled from their sockets, my muscles stretched to their breaking point. My skin burned, raw and stinging, as if it were peeling away, layer by layer.

I gasped for breath, but the more I tried to breathe, the tighter the pressure grew. My throat constricted, and my heart pounded so hard it was a violent thrum in my chest, each beat more excruciating than the last.

Every nerve in my body was on fire, my mind overwhelmed with pain and fear. My head pounded, my vision blurring until all I could see were dark smears and flashes of sickening green light, twisting and warping in the distance.

I could feel myself being pulled apart-not just my body, but my very essence, my soul, unraveling thread by thread. It was as if the darkness was devouring me, piece by piece.

"No," I whimpered, barely able to hear my own voice. My family-they need me. I can't die, not like this.

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I thrashed, desperate to escape, but there was nowhere to go. No way to stop it. I was being consumed, dragged into some unknown place where nothing-no one-could reach me.

I wasn't sure how much longer I could endure it, the pain, and the terror.

Just when I thought my body would finally break apart, a jagged bolt of lightning seared through the darkness again, and I felt a sharp tug in my chest, like something was being torn from deep inside me.

My vision went white with pain, my heart stuttering as if it were about to give out. And then everything went silent, the pain too intense to even feel anymore.

My consciousness began to fade, and I knew-if I let go, I might never come back.