Page 52 of Jayson

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Then she’s being dragged back, her nails tearing into the earth as if the dirt itself could save her. Her scream rips through the woods like a flare.

I blink.

She’s there.

I blink again.

She’s gone.

My heart slams into my ribs. My lungs seize. I run.

I don’t think. I run.

Branches whip against my face. My feet slip on wet leaves. The woods blur into a smear of panic and moonlight. But I’m not moving fast enough. I feel like I’m running underwater, every step slow and useless.

It’s like the forest won’t let me go.

And behind me—somewhere in the dark—Riley is still screaming.

I don’t look back.

I can’t.

Because if I do, I’ll fall apart.

The scream cuts off.

Just… stops.

And the silence that follows isn’t peace. It’s a death sentence.

I stop running. Collapse to my knees in the dirt. My chest heaves. My vision spins.

She’s gone.

And I left her.

I didn’t scream for help.

I didn’t go back.

I didn’t fight.

I just left her.

Now she haunts me. In reflections. In dreams. In the pause between heartbeats.

Sometimes, I see her standing at the edge of my bed, soaked in moonlight, blood dripping down her legs. She doesn’t say anything.

She just looks at me with those wide, glassy eyes. Accusation.

You left me.

I hear it even now, like she’s whispering it in the walls.

You left me.

You left me.

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