❝ 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 IT'S 𝐍𝐎𝐓 WHAT
𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐒, BUT 𝐖𝐇𝐎 THAT 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒
US 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓. ❞
▋⤷ 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇, a profiler with nightmares keeping
her up begins to chase after her almost a decade
later. A hidden nig...
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act one ━━━━ zero. ୨⎯ "PROLOGUE" ⎯୧
∘∘∘ RURAL OREGON. 1998.
𝓢ome people spend years wondering what their lives will turn into. Other's go into a field, in hopes they've chose the right place to start—but others realize through tragedy what was made of them. After a storm strikes, most people realize what they feel is necessary from them. What they feel is their duty to fulfill.
But the feeling after is never pretty.
After the storm, is the worse part of trauma to live. Is the having to rebuild what had been broken, wishing you'll return to the person you once were. Although, many never do. Many spend the time after searching for an answer to get rid of the symptoms many despise feeling.
Guilt. Grief. Despair.
It's an unpleasant feeling. When day after day, you wake up and sleep feeling it drain your body. It's a horrid feeling Elizabeth Davis knew she'd end up feeling, and she knew it would never go away. She sat on the cold flooring that was spiking her temperature to an unnatural estate. She thought she had gone through the worse already.
But the waiting. The waiting was driving her to insanity.
Waiting to see where her fate would lead her. Whether is was a bullet through the head, or any hopes of seeing the sun. All she knew was... she will never be left the same. No one could. Seeing your best friends life leave their eyes, feeling your skin crawl from the cold and shocks of energy wave through your body.
Feeling your dry lips try to scream for help, and yet nothing comes out. She was growing tired of hope. There was nothing left to hope for when she had spent what felt like a lifetime staring at the same grey wall for days. The same gray wall that held her trapped in this estate.
Listening to the dripping of waters from a pipe, they were like nails being dragged down a chalkboard. It was etched into her memory, keeping her up at night—not that she got much sleep anyways.
Elizabeth could feel the bruises on her arm, and legs; Different colors to represent different stages of healing. They quivered from the aching cold. She could sense the life within her. The young Elizabeth who believed in a world full of joy, be destroyed by the wave of reality that hit her.
Elizabeth understood at a young age what death meant. What it feels like to lose someone so close, to something so unknown. It meant feeling relief at the end of fighting it all, and despair to the collateral left to witness it fall.
