Rebirth | Simon Ghost Riley

7

Author's POV

Lorren McAllister gripped the white blanket tightly, its surface cold to the touch, as if it had absorbed the icy atmosphere of the room.
Her fingers were strained to their limits, knuckles pale, and her nails left faint impressions in the fabric. She tossed and turned, as though trying to flee from an invisible pursuer. Deep, ragged breaths sliced through the silence. Beneath her closed eyelids, her eyes darted anxiously, betraying the chaos raging within her.

Nightmares had become a part of Lorren, as if she could no longer exist without them. After her service in the military, they had receded slightly—becoming quieter, less vicious—but they never truly disappeared. Tonight, however, the old demons returned, dragging her into the abyss of the past with their icy, lifeless fingers.

She saw herself as if from above, a detached observer floating above the scene.

Her mother. Anna. Sitting on an old wooden chair, tightly bound with thick ropes. The ropes cut into her wrists, leaving crimson marks on her pale skin. Her marble-like face was smeared with blood and tears. Scarlet droplets trickled down her cheeks, stinging her eyes. She cried silently, almost soundlessly, her lips tightly pressed together.

"I've told you everything I know!"Anna's voice trembled, but there was a steely resolve in it.
"The code to the safe is already with you. What more do you want?"

The man standing opposite her, tall with an icy, almost inhuman gaze, slowly pressed a gun to her temple. His face showed no emotion.

"You know we want more," he replied with lazy cruelty.Anna smirked crookedly, defiant.

"I don't have what you're looking for."
Her voice was rough and laced with sarcasm, but beneath it lay an unbreakable will. Even now, in this moment, she held her ground.

The man stepped closer, grabbing her hand. His fingers, coarse and rough, began to toy with her thin, delicate fingers.

"What if we start breaking your knuckles?" he asked, his tone menacingly calm. "I'd hate to ruin such pretty hands  "

—Mom!

Lorren watched herself as a girl, staying frozen in the corner of the dim room. She was no older than fifteen. Lori's wide eyes brimmed with terror, her small frame trembling uncontrollably. She didn't dare to cry out, not even to breathe too loudly.

"Don't you dare touch her!" Anna's voice, sharp and commanding, filled the space. It was both a plea and a threat.

The man chuckled coldly, the sound reverberating through the room.

"She's already touched, Anna. Touched by your choices. By your lies. Do you really think you can shield her forever?"

He raised the gun from Anna's temple and pointed it at  Lori.Lorren—grown now, watching this scene unfold in her nightmare—wanted to scream, to lunge forward and shield her younger self. But her feet wouldn't move. Her voice was trapped, lost in the chasm of her dream.

"Look at her," the man said, tilting his head. "Such a fragile little thing. So innocent." He squatted down to eye level with Lori, the gun still trained on her. "Tell me, princess, do you think your mommy is a hero?"

Lori whimpered but didn't respond. The man's lips curved into a cruel smile.

"Well, I'll let you in on a secret," he whispered conspiratorially, leaning in closer. "Your mommy doesn't always win."