Page 6 of Torn By Fate

I was alive.

My jaw locked as I fought back another ugly wail clawing its way up my throat.

I am alive.

But… they weren’t.

It took several long, shaky breaths before I could uncurl my fists from my hair, and my arms dropped limply to my sides. My fingers trembled as I reached for the faucet and turned off the water. Silence settled over the small hotel bathroom. I watched the water spiral into the drain, disappearing into the darkness. For a moment I could only stare, hypnotized by its seemingly endless descent.

Water and fire.

One consumed, destroying everything it touched.

The other carried away the ashes and washed off the bleeding sins.

Both left behind nothing but ghosts.

I stepped out of the shower and peeled off the soaked clothes from my body, dropping them to the floor with a heavy, wet thud. I wrapped the towel around my body and walked back to the bedroom. I shivered with every step I took, my muscles aching with exhaustion.

They ached with the memory of the past.

Once again, the dream replayed itself in the back of my mind, a shuffling of images that refused to settle.

“Fuck,” I hissed under my breath.

I closed my eyes and exhaled through my nose, counting backward from ten. Pressing both palms to my face, I waited for the shivering to stop. I’d had nightmares before—years of them, overlapping and mutating so they became less like dreams and more like a sixth sense.

This one was different. This one felt like a message, a warning shot, a reminder trying to reassert itself after months of deliberate forgetting.

I had to force myself to forget because I had to play a part.

The perfect daughter and the dutiful wife.

I couldn’t let my past become my weakness.

The memories had to stay buried.

But now…

I could be myself. The real me.

Now, I could finally mourn.

I walked to the mini fridge and took out the last can of Diet Coke and pressed it to my cheek, letting the condensation drip down my neck. The coolness was refreshing.

Inhale. Exhale.

My heart slowed.

My pulse settled into something almost normal.

The panic, the pain… loosened their grip, retreating one measured breath at a time.

I could finally breathe.

I settled back in the queen-sized bed, my gaze sweeping over the small hotel room. It was dainty, not too expensive, but it wasn’t too shabby either. Just a nice, little hotel in the middle of Prague.

Moving across multiple countries and continents over the last six weeks has become both tiring and a little too expensive.