62. Tempting Darkness

Continued...

Tears burned at my waterline like they had been waiting for permission to fall. And they did.

My breathing became shallow as I let myself cry, let myself drown in the humiliation I felt tonight.

The walls were closing in, suffocating me with their stillness, their silence. I couldn't be here. Not inside. Not where the air felt thick and my own skin felt too tight.

So I ran. Through the hallway, through the kitchen, past the threshold of my home and into the open field behind my house.

I turned around, when I finally faced the house from a distance, I felt like I could breathe again.

In and out. Inhale and exhale. That's all you have to do, Rose.

My gaze drifted to my bedroom, the windows—all wide open. Again.

I should've cared, should've at least questioned how or why. But right now? I didn't have the energy to.

Instead, I turned back to the dark stretch of trees that stood just beyond the clearing.

The darkness pooled between them like ink, like an invitation whispered through the wind. Beckoning. Calling.

And for a moment, it was almost tempting.

I took a step forward, then another, the cool grass brushing against my bare feet. The air smelled wild, untamed—earthy and raw, carrying the scent of damp wood and the distant whisper of rain.

Then, I crossed the threshold. Stepped from the land of the living into something far more ancient, far more powerful.

The forest hummed with life, even in the dead of night. The distant hoot of an owl, the rhythmic chirp of crickets, the rustle of unseen creatures moving through the undergrowth.

The wind carried their sounds like a melody, a song only the wild could understand.

By no means was I under the impression that I was safe here. I wasn't. I knew that. The unknown trek of woods, at night, all alone, defense less. It was reckless to be here.

But despite that—despite the fact that every nerve in my body should've been screaming at me to turn back—I stayed.

My fingers trailed along the rough bark of an ancient tree, tracing the patterns carved by time. The towering giants stretched above me, their skeletal branches silhouetted against the moonlight.

Leaves crunched beneath my feet, dry twigs snapping under my weight, the sounds oddly satisfying in the silence.

And I wondered… maybe this was what I needed.

To be somewhere no one could reach me. Somewhere nothing could touch me.

Or maybe, just maybe, I was waiting.

For something—or someone—to find me first.

It was the thrill of the undeniable danger that made the prospect almost... enticing.

I felt an inexplicable connection to the wild thrumming around me, a raw and untamed force that pulsed in sync with my own heartbeat.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, a rush coursing through my veins, making me feel untouchable, powerful—like I could take on the world and crush it within my grasp. I never knew I was an adrenaline junkie before.

The thought rang through my mind as I reached for a dry leaf dangling from a low-hanging branch, crumbling it between my fingers until it disintegrated into dust.

The wind carried its remains away like an afterthought.

As far as my gaze stretched beneath the silver glow of the moon, I saw only endless trees—some with leaves fresh and full of life, others stripped bare and lifeless.

No flowers, no fruits, just towering sentinels of bark and shadow.

The deeper I wandered, the denser the trees became, their gnarled limbs weaving together overhead like conspirators sharing secrets in the dark.

What little moonlight that had guided my way began to fade, swallowed by the thickening canopy. Shadows stretched long and unbroken, pressing in on all sides, whispering the dangers of the unknown.

And yet, even as the whisper of reason stirred in the back of my mind, I didn't feel afraid. I felt invincible. The feeling was enthralling.

That is—until common sense finally kicked in.