Page 405 of Eternal
My breaths come quick and shallow, like I’m barely catching air. It’s not full panic, only this tight knot squeezing my chest, making my ribs ache. I’m exhaling too fast, like if I don’t slow down, I’ll drown in my own breath.
Eyes shut, I force the words out in a whisper:It’s gonna be okay, Azra. Just breathe. Please, breathe.
I put my helmet on and glance back at his apartment for a few seconds. I’ll miss his safety today… but it’s okay. No it’s not… Because why did I automatically take Sunny with me?
The sun is still low when I start riding my bike.
The road is long, winding through parts of Vegas I barely recognize anymore, empty lots, cracked sidewalks, streets where the dust seems to settle permanently.
It’s insane to think I left that place when I was so young, when I barely understood what life even meant. But I know this road perfectly. Every bump, every turn. It’s burned into my memory.
My stomach twists harder with every pedal stroke, the sick feeling settling deep like a warning. I want to turn back. But I don’t.
I slow my bike, heart tightening as the house comes into view.
It’s worse than I imagined. The house sits all alone, like it’s been swallowed by silence. The paint is faded and peeling,the wood beneath splintered and gray. The front porch sags, one step broken, like it’s giving up on holding itself together. Windows are shattered or boarded up, and the garden’s a mess, cracked dirt, dead weeds,dead irises.
I can’t stop the memories from flooding in, the screams, the blood, the way it felt like it was ripping me apart.
My chest tightens, and it’s hard to catch my breath.
Okay, just breathe. Slow down.
I press my hand to my ribs, trying to hold myself together. I move closer to the garden, trying not to breathe too hard. A tear slips down my cheek before I even notice.
The irises… they were already dead before everything fell apart. Dry, brittle, tangled up with weeds that don’t care.
The front door’s hanging off its hinges, paint all cracked and peeling like it’s been left to rot for years. I push it open, and it creaks loud but I can’t stop myself from stepping inside.
Dust everywhere, broken furniture, glass scattered on the floor. The wood groans under me with every step, like it remembers, how I ran, how fast joy turned into fear.
There’s still blood, faint but real, in the corners, like the house can’t let go of that night.
I was supposed to be there, too, supposed to die with them, but I didn’t.
The silence crushes me, like it’s squeezing the air out of my lungs. And this place… it’s still standing. Empty.Broken. Full of ghosts I don’t want to meet.
I take a shaky breath and keep walking forward.
The living room’s barely lit, but I can make out the shape of our old TV, one of those bulky, boxy ones.
I kneel down and trace the dusty screen with my fingers. I wonder what my baby brother would look like now. Almost twenty years gone, and he never got to see the world like it istoday, never saw TVs like this turn into sleek, flat screens or the internet take over everything.
If Mom were still here… would she still be married to Volk?
Would things be different?
Would she have been a good mother to Eren?
Would she even still be my mom?
My other hand tightens around Sunny, as I get up and walk through the living room in silence.
I think I’m going crazy, because I can vividly see what used to happen in this house.
I feel it. I breathe it in.
The anxiety of being a seven-year-old kid, taking care of a mother vomiting her guts from alcohol and drugs. The stress of watching her sleep, not knowing if she’d wake up. The fear of being locked in the dark with only a plush toy for company, punished for flushing her vodka bottle down the toilet. And then the abandonment…
