Miss Me?

02

The first thing she felt was the sensation of weightlessness, as though she were floating in an endless void. Utter blackness enveloped her, a deep silence pressing against her ears, drowning out even her own thoughts. It was peaceful, in a strange way, but there was a dull throb somewhere in the distance, a pulse that grew louder as consciousness slowly clawed its way back.

Suddenly, her body jerked violently, and she tumbled forward, crashing into something cold and wet. Her eyes flew open in shock, but there was no gasp, no sudden intake of breath. Instead, there was a soft splash as her body hit the surface of a shallow creek, the clear water cascading around her limbs.

But she didn't feel it.

She pushed herself up slowly, her hands sinking into the muddy bottom of the creek as she blinked, trying to understand where she was. The forest loomed around her, familiar yet different, the towering trees casting shadows over the water. The creek's current tugged at the edges of her dress—a white sundress, soaked through and clinging to her skin. The water dripped from her fingertips, but she couldn't feel its coldness. There was nothing but a numbness that permeated her body, as though she were separated from everything around her by an invisible barrier.

Her legs, trembling, moved sluggishly as she tried to stand, her feet slipping on the slick rocks beneath her. She stumbled forward, catching her balance on the edge of the creek bank. The world around her was oddly still, the only sound the gentle ripple of the water and the rustling of leaves in the wind. The air felt thick, heavy, yet her lungs didn't ache from the exertion. In fact, she couldn't feel much of anything.

Her dark blonde hair fell messily around her face, the once neat strands now tattered and dirty, clinging to her wet skin in knots. She reached up, pushing her hair back, her fingers shaking as she tried to process the strangeness of the moment. Her reflection stared back at her from the water below—pale, wide-eyed, and confused.

She barely recognized herself. Her face was gaunt, as though the life had drained from her, the remnants of dirt and debris clinging to her cheeks. Her blue eyes were dull, devoid of the spark that had once defined her. She leaned closer to the water, squinting at the reflection, trying to make sense of what she saw. Her hands moved toward her face, wiping at her cheek in a futile attempt to clean it, but the grime only smeared further.

And then she saw it—a single drop of red, falling from above.

It landed with a soft splatter on her chest, staining the white fabric of the sundress. She froze, her eyes darting downward to the spot where the crimson droplet bloomed, vivid against the pale material. Her heart, or what was left of it, lurched in confusion. Slowly, her hand moved to touch the spot, her fingers trembling as they brushed over the wet stain. The blood was fresh, bright, and terrifyingly out of place.

Another droplet fell, splashing onto her shoulder this time. Her gaze snapped upward, her breath catching in her throat, but the air was still, empty, save for the swaying of branches in the breeze.

And then she saw it.

Hanging from the highest branch of the tree that towered above her, barely visible through the thick canopy of leaves, was the noose. The rope swung lazily back and forth, as though the wind itself was nudging it into motion. It hung there like a grotesque reminder, frayed and well-worn, the loop at the end darkened by something she didn't want to acknowledge.

Her eyes widened in horror as she stared at it, the image burning into her mind. She knew that noose. She had seen it before—just hours ago, or had it been longer? She had stood beneath that tree, looked up at that same rope, her hands trembling as she reached for it. She remembered the way the bark felt under her fingertips, rough and unyielding. She remembered the weight of the decision that had hung over her like the rope itself.

And now here she was again, but something was wrong—terribly wrong.

The noose swayed gently, and as it did, small droplets of blood dripped from its frayed edges, falling like rain onto the creek below. They splattered against the surface, sending ripples through the water, mixing with the mud and staining the riverbed. She looked down at her own body, horrified to see the once-clear water around her growing red, the blood spreading like a stain beneath her feet.

Her dress—once white, now drenched and clinging to her skin—was marred with more blood. It seeped down from the fabric, the droplets multiplying, staining the entire front of her dress in a sickening pattern. Her heart pounded in her chest, or at least she thought it did, though she couldn't feel the beat of it. The numbness was pervasive, blocking out any sensation of cold or fear.

Her fingers, trembling violently now, touched her chest where the blood had fallen. It felt wet and sticky beneath her fingers, but the touch didn't register. She stared down at her hands, the pads of her fingers smeared with the deep crimson, yet there was no pain, no sense of injury. The blood didn't belong to her—at least not in any way she could understand.

She looked up again, her breath shallow and rapid. The noose hung there, swaying lightly in the wind, a grotesque reminder of what had transpired—except something was wrong. She should have felt it. She should have remembered the way the rope had tightened, the way the world had gone dark. But she didn't.

There had been blackness. Only blackness. And now... she was here. She was standing in the creek, soaked to the bone, blood staining her dress, but she was here.

Her mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of memory that floated in and out of her consciousness. The rope, the darkness, the silence that had followed—it was supposed to have ended there. She had made her decision, hadn't she? She had taken that final step, but now... now she was back.

Why?

Her knees buckled suddenly, and she collapsed into the creek, the water splashing around her as she fell. Her hands plunged into the mud, but again, there was no sensation—no shock of cold, no pain. Just numbness, that all-encompassing numbness that pressed down on her like a heavy weight.

Tears welled in her eyes, but they didn't fall. Her body, it seemed, was betraying her at every turn, refusing to respond in the way it should have. She was soaked, cold, and bloody, but she couldn't feel a thing. Her fingers curled into the mud, digging deep as though she could ground herself, but nothing came.