Fragments in the Dark

I didn’t even make it inside the house before the tears started falling, hot and unbidden. The weight of the evening—the strange dinner, Wiltz’s unsettling charm, the gnawing feeling in my chest, guilt—had broken something inside me. I slid down the front door, my back against the cool wood, trembling as the sobs spilled out.

How was it possible to feel so lost when I was supposed to know exactly who I was?

What's happening?

Who am I betraying?

What am I supposed to be doing?

The memories flickered in and out, like broken fragments of a dream I could almost grasp but never quite hold. Names, faces, moments—vanished or hazy. And worst of all, I didn’t know if it was me or someone else who’d forgotten.

After a while, I wiped my cheeks with the sleeve of my dress and forced myself up. My feet dragged as I made my way through the silent house, the kind of silence that pressed against your ears until every small sound feels amplified.