Warning: Content related to mental health and post-traumatic stress disorder. English is not my first language, therefore the writing may have translation errors.
This story takes place months after the events in Duskwood.
‐------------------‐-------------
It often happens that i wake up late at night just because my nose itches from the smell of fuel.
Almost every time, it turns out to be the same nightmare.
Patrol car sirens sound in the distance, along with the roar of a helicopter flying over Duskwood forest. I hear screams, though i can't tell if they're from a man or a woman... or if they're my own.
I want to run, but i'm trapped in the ground, watching the iron mine collapse.
As a result, my throat closes up, almost as if i myself were experiencing the sensation of Jake inhaling the smoke from the fire.
The last breath of air he was able to take before...
I experience the sensation of being trapped in a dream within a dream.
Every time i open my eyes in discomfort, thinking i've escaped my nightmares, i find a shadow standing in front of me. The smell of burning is permeated in his clothes. He has deep wounds from the burns, the mask covers his face and he stares at me silently.
Other times, i feel an arm around my waist while i sleep.
And i always close my eyes tightly, not wanting to turn around, avoiding looking at him.
"Please go away," I whisper to him each time. "I really didn't want this to end like this for you."
A while later, i really wake up. Screaming and crying.
Hours later, i feel sorry for my neighbors.
I have to tell myself that none of this is real, that they're just nightmares, that they can't hurt me, that he's okay. It never works, but i do it anyway, until I decide to go for a run with the music loud enough to not hear the voices flooding my head.
My work is affected by the few hours of sleep, the physical and emotional exhaustion, and i even get to have visions of things that have never been there. My colleagues worry more than once. They ask me to take a break before this continues to affect my work life. Before i can refuse, the psychiatric leave from the doctor arrives, granting me a couple of months off.
There were no messages from anyone from Duskwood, and i knew they wouldn't come. That's why i didn't even look at my cell phone anymore when it vibrated.
But now, before going out for some fresh air, i'm tempted to look for even a message or just check an old chat.
However, not even chats are something i can turn to now.
After tying the laces of my sneakers, just before going out into the street, i shake off a strange feeling on my shoulders: the feeling that someone is watching me.
It's rare to find someone on the streets at six in the morning on a weekend. There's rarely another person like me, a lunatic who decides to get up so early in the middle of winter instead of staying comfortably in her bed.
I arrived in this town, near Redlog, just a week after the whole mess.
Charlie, Eric, Bryan, Violet, Ash.
Another disappearance. Someone else asking for my help.
And this time, a stranger seemed to have an interest in me.
I started running as soon as i got to the park, two blocks from the apartment where i was staying. The music was loud again. It prevented the rest of my thoughts from taking hold.
Still, Nolan's voice filtered into my head.
"You're going to go deaf one day."
But i prefer the stabbing pain in my ears to the emptiness in my chest.
I prefer the roar to the silence, because in the silence…
In the silence I see him.
I didn't deserve such a sacrifice from him, that's for sure.
The thought pierces me like a cold needle, piercing my insides with the same brutality with which the mine collapsed on him.
The black smoke devouring the sky.
The fire roaring like a hungry beast.
As if i can escape the images.
As if i can flee the weight of his absence.
Jake is everywhere. And nowhere.
I don't feel the cold of dawn biting my skin, nor the stabbing pain in my legs from the effort. I only feel the burning in my chest, as if my lungs are on the verge of collapse.
If i stop, i'll see him. If i stop, i'll be back in that moment.
The flames devouring everything in their path.
The dry sound of the structure collapsing.
I don't know how much longer I run. I don't know if there's a destination, if there's a purpose, if there's even a point in continuing to move as if i can escape the weight of what i carry inside. But my legs keep propelling me forward, as if my body is afraid of what will happen if i stop.
When my breathing becomes so erratic it hurts and i feel like i can't get any air, i'm finally forced to stop.
That's when I realize where I am.
I can't explain how I ran so fast as to get here.
Before, the woods were my refuge. My escape. They had been my space, my place. I always felt like I belonged there, that one day I would have a house here, near a lake, far from everything.
The pain in my chest is too strong. It's an unbearable weight, a pressure that spreads to my throat, to my ribs, to my thoughts. It even outweighs the annoyance of the music that keeps echoing in my ears, deafening, a last attempt to drown out what I don't want to face.
You have to be able to do it.
We can't be in this hole forever.
I'm so wrapped up in myself, so caught up in my anguish, in the knot forming in my stomach as i stare at the path that opens between the trees, that i don't notice the presence beside me.
Until a hand touches my shoulder.
A gasp escapes my lips as i immediately pull away, as if the contact burns me.
My heart pounds violently against my ribs.
A man looks at me, surprised by my reaction. In his eyes i notice something else: sorrow, sadness. His lips move, but I can't hear him. My pulse is pounding so hard in my ears that I barely register the world around me.
Then he points to his ears, then mine.
I rush to take them off, feeling a slight flush of embarrassment. When i do, the world comes rushing back. The sound of the wind through the trees. The rustling of dry leaves under my feet. My own breathing, still ragged.
And suddenly, as if an invisible weight has lifted from my chest, i feel more relaxed.
Why didn’t I realize this before?
All this time i had been shutting myself away, isolating myself with the noise, trying to escape what I was feeling… but i ignored that, perhaps, i could find comfort in what was around me.
“Better?” the stranger asks. His voice is soft, almost reminding me of the fresh sea air. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, but you looked very lost.”
I watch him for a moment.
His black hair falls in a slight mess, with strands brushing his forehead. It's the kind of carelessness that doesn't feel accidental, but natural, like the wind has permission to play with him without him caring too much.
His face is sharp, with defined lines that give him an almost melancholic beauty, and there's something about him that's impossible to ignore. Maybe it's the mix of hardness and vulnerability in his expression, like he's used to fighting something that never stops chasing him.
His skin is pale, like the sun hasn't touched it in a long time, and under his eyes there are marked dark circles that give him an air of silent exhaustion. But instead of making him less attractive, they make him more intriguing. He's the kind of man who seems to have seen too much, who carries invisible scars and a history that no one else knows.
When his gaze meets mine again, i feel a chill run down my spine. I don't know if it's fear, curiosity, or something darker that keeps me motionless in front of him.
He looks tired, like he hasn't had a damn break in months.
How is he not cold? He’s only wearing a black t-shirt.
“Yeah…” I finally answer, my voice weaker than i expected. “I don’t really know where i am.”
He frowns. It’s a subtle gesture, almost imperceptible, something that someone else wouldn’t notice. But i do.
Because when you spend so much time trapped in your own mind, you learn to see what others miss.
“Where did you come from?” he asks, his tone sounding more curious than concerned.
“I don’t know… I was just running.”
“Running away from something?”
The question takes me by surprise. Not because it’s not valid, but because the answer is too complicated to say out loud.
How bad would it have sounded if i told him i was running away from ghosts?
“Not exactly.” I avoid his gaze, suddenly feeling too vulnerable under his scrutiny.
He nods slowly, as if he understands more than i can express myself.
“I tend to run too when i don’t want to think too much.” A smile spreads across his lips. “Also when i don’t have time to think.”
I’m surprised at how natural it sounds, as if he’s actually saying it from experience and not just to make me feel better.
“And it works?” I ask, with a bitter laugh.
“Sometimes. Other times you just end up in a forest without knowing how you got there.”
I look up and his smile is still there. It doesn’t seem to be mocking, there’s no condescension either. Just a silent understanding.
I breathe out a tired sigh, running my fingers through my hair to push it out of my face.
“I guess that makes two of us.”
He doesn’t answer right away, but the way he looks at me makes me feel like he wants to say something more.
“If you want, i can walk you home.” His tone is casual, but there’s something else there. Something about the way he says it makes my nerves tense.
It's not a threat. It's not danger.
“I don't want to go back yet.”
He nods again, as if he already expected that answer.
“So, what do you want to do?”
The question leaves me blank. Because i have no idea. I don't know what to do with my life, with my present, with all the mess in my head.
So I just answer with another question:
Something about him draws me in a way i can't explain. This conversation even feels so… natural, like i'm not a stranger at all, like i'm talking to an old friend.
He watches me for a moment, as if evaluating my answer.
—Talk to someone who understands.
His words hit me harder than i expected.
Since there's no one available who really understands what I'm going through.
The only people who might understand are out of my reach.
—And what if there's no one who understands?
He looks at me intensely, and for a second, i think i see a shadow of something that feels familiar in his eyes.
—There's always someone. — His voice lowers a little, as if he's remembering something.
The silence stretches between us.
His eyes follow every move i make, he's attentive to me, and it unsettles me and makes me feel strange. It's like he's trying to convince himself of something. It should scare me, i know it would otherwise, and it partly does, because i have no idea where this guy came from but yet, here he is.
A stupid question escapes my lips.
“Is there anyone you miss?” I notice the way his knuckles are marked as he tightens his grip on the strap of his backpack.
His expression changes. It’s subtle, barely perceptible, but i notice it. Like my question has hit him somewhere deep.
The corners of his lips lift slightly, the look he gives me turns tender, transmitting a certain warmth.
For a moment, i think he’s not going to answer.
“Yes.” His voice is barely a whisper, and my chest tightens.
I don’t know why i asked. I don’t even know what i expected to hear. But now that the question is there, i feel like i can’t just let it die in the air.
He lets out a short laugh.
“More than I can explain.” He takes a step toward me, and i can’t help but swallow.
I feel like something inside me is weakening, like the strengths i’ve put so much effort into these past few months are just paper. I don’t know what to do with this feeling. It’s awkward and yet familiar. Like we’re two broken souls recognizing each other in the dark.
“And you?” he asks suddenly.
I swallow. I look away, at the trees that loom like shadows around us.
My answer is as small as his, but he doesn’t press. He just nods, as if he understands that no more needs to be said.
And for the first time in a long time, i feel like someone actually does.
“I have to go,” I rush to say. This has gotten longer than expected and i also recognize that if he asked me, i would end up baring my soul to him.
But then, he says my name.
The sound of my name in his voice is like a shot straight to the chest.
If i could see myself in a mirror right now, i know my face would be pale, my eyes wide, my expression caught between panic and disbelief.
My heart, which had begun to calm down after the run, is beating again with a painful intensity, so loud it echoes in my ears.
And i can’t think of anything but the impossibility of this moment.
“I didn’t tell you my name.” My own voice sounds weak, broken.
He doesn’t respond right away. He doesn’t seem surprised, or confused.
“I didn’t need to,” he murmurs behind me.
His tone is soft, but each word makes my skin crawl.
I hear him coming closer, and fear slides down my spine like an icy chill.
But fear that this is another hallucination.
That if i dare to turn around, i’ll be met with a face that isn’t a face.
Raw flesh, burned skin, the memory of the mine collapsing on him.
The pressure in my chest suddenly intensifies.
The colors of the forest begin to fade. I no longer know if I’m standing or if the ground has crumbled beneath my feet.
My body gives out before i can stop it, my knees hitting the damp earth as i gasp for oxygen.
Like he’s calling me from the other side of an abyss.
Suddenly, warm hands hold my arms.
The word is an echo in my mind.
“What?” I whisper, unable to hold back my tears any longer.
His voice is clearer now, closer.
I try to look at him, but my vision is blurry from crying.
If I could, i'd laugh at how pathetic i must look.
But then, with unexpected gentleness, he wipes my tears away with his fingers.
And forces me to see him.
They're filled with something that hurts more than any wound.
—Look at me. Focus on me.
His words are an anchor, and i cling to them as if they're the only thing keeping me grounded.
—Breathe in. Bring the air to where your ribs end —His voice is steady, patient—. Follow the path of the air. Do it slowly.
And when i finally exhale, my hands still shake, my body still on the verge of breaking.
So i do the only thing my mind allows me to do.
I hide in his chest, seeking his warmth, not caring if it's right or wrong, not thinking about anything but the fact that i need him.
And he doesn't pull away.
He holds me with the same desperation with which i hold him.
His arms wrap around me tightly, his fingers tangle in my hair, and his breath trembles against mine.
For a second, just for a second, i dare to think that this is real.
—Aren't you cold? —my voice is barely a whisper against his shoulder.
He laughs softly, a low, husky sound that feels like an echo of something i thought was lost.
“I lost my jacket. It moved on to… a better life.”
My chest tightens with an unbearable force.
Because if i do, I fear it will disappear again.
“I thought that…” My voice abandons me again and i just cry. Jake holds me, his shaky breath against my hair. “I didn’t know what happened to them…I didn’t know what happened to you.”
Jake doesn’t say anything at first. He just holds me tighter, as if that would reassure me that he’s still here, that this isn’t another hallucination.
His chest rises and falls in an uneven rhythm, and when he finally speaks, his voice seems broken, laden with something I can’t decipher.
“I didn’t know if i would see you again either.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to hold back another sob. But it's no use.
“I thought you were…” The words break in my throat, and his grip tightens just a second before his hand moves up to the base of my neck, holding me so gently that it hurts more than it should.
“I’m not.” His breath is warm against my skin. “I’m here.”
The question burns on my tongue, but i don’t let it slip. I don’t want to know. Not now.
I cling to his shirt, feeling his heat through the thin fabric. His body is firm against mine, real, damn real.
I don’t know how long we stay like this, tangled in an embrace that feels too fragile, as if at any moment the world will decide to take him away from me again.
“Don’t let go yet,” I murmur against his shoulder, not sure if I’m asking him or myself.
Jake sighs, and his fingers tangle in my hair again, gripping with the same desperation as mine.
And I don’t know when, i don’t think either of us understand how it happens, but in just a matter of seconds, his lips are on mine.
Jake growls against my mouth, almost as if this is a relief, a comfort, because after all this is what we’ve both waited for.
The kiss isn’t rushed or desperate. It’s slow, deep, an acknowledgement as much as a surrender. An echo of all we haven’t said, all that’s been taken from us.
His fingers move up to my face, brushing my cheek with a care that contrasts with the intensity of his grip on my waist. His touch is cold against my burning skin, and i shudder as i feel him trace the outline of my jaw, as if he’s trying to memorize me with each caress.
I bite his bottom lip, tugging at it and opening my eyes slightly to meet his before I smile and let this continue.
Jake takes a shaky breath against my lips before deepening the kiss, tilting his head just barely to trap me better, to steal more from me than I'm already giving him without hesitation.
Because this—him, us—is the only thing real right now.
My hands move up his chest, sliding to tangle in his dark hair, tugging just barely in an attempt to pull him even closer. And he responds with a low growl, one i feel vibrate against my mouth before his tongue brushes mine in a slow, devastating caress.
Jake pulls away just enough for our breaths to mingle, for our lips to continue brushing in a silent back-and-forth of unspoken promises. His forehead rests against mine, and when he opens his eyes, his dilated pupils almost obscure the icy blue of his gaze.
“I found you” he whispers, as if he still can’t believe it.
I laugh for the first time in months, a genuine laugh escaping my lips accompanied by a tear of pure joy that Jake wipes away with his thumb.
And before he can respond, I kiss him again. Because if this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up yet.
