Chapter 21
Kaze
The darkness is endless.
It fills out in every direction, pressing against me like a heavy weight.
I can’t see anything, not even the faintest flicker of light.
There’s nothing, just blackness that feels suffocating and absolute.
I try to move, but my limbs feel disconnected from me, as if I’m floating in some void where my body no longer exists.
Panic starts to rise, clawing at my throat, but then I hear it: a soft sound, faint at first, but growing louder.
Crying. Someone is crying.
The sound tugs at me, sharp and insistent, like an invisible thread pulling me toward its source. It’s a woman’s voice, soft and broken, her sobs filled with an anguish that cuts straight through the void.
“Come back,” the voice murmurs, barely discernible through the tears. “We’re running out of time. I’m not ready to let you go. ”
The words feel like a punch to the gut. They echo in the emptiness around me, vibrating in my chest.
I try to respond, to ask who’s there, but no sound comes out. My voice is trapped, just like the rest of me. I’m a prisoner in this endless darkness.
I feel a tingling sensation on my hand, faint and fleeting, but it’s there. It’s almost like someone is touching me, their fingers brushing against mine with a tenderness that sends a shiver through the nothingness.
I try to move my hand to reach out, but it’s like my body is paralyzed, unresponsive.
The voice continues, its tone growing more desperate. “Please, come back. I need you. Don’t leave us.”
The raw emotion in her words tears at me. It’s not just sadness; it’s desperation. Whoever she is, she’s important. I know it instinctively, even though I can’t place her voice.
It’s familiar in a way that makes my chest ache, once again like a memory just out of reach.
I try again to speak, to call out to her, but my throat feels constricted, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t force the words out.
Frustration builds, mixing with the growing sense of urgency.
She needs me.
Whoever she is, she needs me.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the crying starts to fade, and a new sensation fills the void.
A smell, sharp and sterile.
Disinfectant.
The scent cuts through the darkness, jolting me in a way that nothing else has.
It’s out of place, unnatural in this endless black.
The combination of the voice and the smell twists something deep in my gut, a sensation of nausea rolling over me like a wave. My head spins, and the blackness seems to pulse around me, as if it’s alive, pressing in closer.
The crying fades completely, replaced by an oppressive silence.
And then I hear it, a distant ringing, sharp and insistent, cutting through the void like a lifeline.
The sound grows louder, pulling me toward consciousness.
I try to hold on to the voice, the faint memory of the touch, but it slips away like sand through my fingers.
I wake with a jolt, my eyes snapping open to the dim light of Khalee’s bedroom.
My body feels heavy, weak, as if I’ve been drained of all energy.
My stomach churns, and I swallow hard against the wave of nausea that threatens to overwhelm me.
I sit up slowly, my head spinning, and look around the room.
Khalee’s side of the bed is empty, the sheets neatly smoothed over.
There’s no sign of her, and the ringing I heard in the dream was real; it’s her phone, buzzing faintly on the dresser across the room.
“What the fuck is going on with me?” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. My voice sounds strange to my own ears, raw and strained.
I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, every muscle in my body aching as if I’ve run a marathon.
But I’m a ghost. Never once did I feel like this.
Shaking my head, I swing my legs over the side of the bed, forcing myself to stand despite the dizziness that threatens to pull me back down.
I glance around the room again, searching for any sign of Khalee, but she’s nowhere to be found.
“Khalee?” I call out, my voice cracking slightly. Silence greets me, and the unease bubbling in my chest only grows stronger, and although I want to follow the pull I feel towards her, I’m not strong enough.