The windows were completely open, allowing the night air to spill freely into the room. A cool breeze drifted in, lifting and pushing the long white curtains so they danced restlessly in the air, as though they were alive. Outside, the moon hung full and bright in the sky, its pale glow the only source of light. It filtered into the dark room in soft streams, casting faint silver shadows across everything it touched.
The room itself was neatly arranged too neatly, almost unnaturally so. The bed stood at the center, grand and imposing, decorated with carefully placed roses that seemed untouched by time. The sheets were pure white, pristine to the point of eeriness. Four tall posts surrounded the bed, their carved frames supporting sheer curtains that had been drawn closed, enclosing the space like a sacred chamber. It was unmistakable, a marriage bed. Anyone could tell from the decorations alone.
Beside it stood a vanity table with an ornate mirror. Brushes, perfumes, and hairpins lay scattered across its surface, not arranged but abandoned as though someone had been there not long ago and left in a hurry.
Elaine's footsteps echoed softly in the room as she slowly took in her surroundings, her gaze moving carefully from one detail to another. This room… it wasn't from the present. It lacked the touch of modern civilization. Everything about it whispered of a different era, something old, something distant. The 1700s, perhaps. It was obvious.
She walked forward slowly, each step cautious, as though afraid the room might react to her presence. The breeze continued to toy with her straight black hair, brushing it across her face and shoulders.
Then she halted.
Her foot had touched something.
She frowned slightly and looked down, her breath catching faintly in her throat. It was a white wedding dress.
Slowly, almost reverently, she bent down and picked it up. Her fingers brushed against the delicate material, and she felt it immediately. Silk. Lace. Fine craftsmanship. Tiny diamonds were embedded into the fabric, forming intricate patterns that shimmered faintly under the moonlight.
It was breathtaking.
She couldn't deny it, it was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. If not the most beautiful.
Lifting the dress to its full length, something stirred within her. A strange, unsettling familiarity.
She had seen this before.
She was sure of it.
But where?
Her brows furrowed slightly as she tried to grasp the memory, but it slipped through her mind like water through fingers.
Slowly, she let the dress fall back to the floor exactly where she had picked it up, as though returning it might restore whatever balance she had disturbed.
She straightened and looked around again.
But something felt wrong.
Her vision, it felt limited. Narrow. As though she was only allowed to see certain things, while the rest of the room remained hidden beyond her perception.
And then—
She saw him.
Allan.
He was there… and yet, he wasn't.
He stood within the room, but not as part of it. Like a shadow that didn't belong.
Somewhere deep within her subconscious, an urge surged violently, to go to him, to reach out, to call his name. But she couldn't. Her body refused. Whatever this place was, whatever this moment was, her actions were restricted. Controlled.
So instead, she looked away.
Everything had been eerily quiet, too quiet, when suddenly, the silence shattered.
Strangled gasps filled the room.
They were harsh. Wet. Desperate.
It sounded like someone was fighting to breathe… and losing.
Elaine's heart began to pound violently against her chest, faster than it should, louder than it should. Fear settled deep within her, unnatural and suffocating.
She turned quickly, scanning the room again.
Allan was still there.
Watching.
It was as though he could only do what she could do, see. Nothing more.
Slowly, she began to walk around the bed, her steps hesitant, dread building with each movement.
Then she saw it.
A woman.
Her legs froze the moment her eyes caught the trail—
Blood.
So much blood.
It stretched across the floor, dark and glistening under the moonlight. It was everywhere.
The room changed instantly.
Or perhaps… she had just begun to see it clearly.
Her breathing grew uneven, her heart racing uncontrollably, so fast it felt as though it might tear out of her chest. It was as if she was the one gasping for air. As if the suffocation belonged to her.
But she couldn't breathe.
There wasn't enough air.
Still, she forced herself forward, step by step, until she reached the woman lying on the floor.
Dying.
Slowly. Painfully.
"Are you alright?" Elaine asked, her voice thin, fragile, trembling under the weight of fear.
She wanted to do more. She wanted to scream, to call for help, to stop this.
But she couldn't.
She could only watch.
And she knew deep down that the woman couldn't see her.
"Are you alright?" she repeated, her voice breaking slightly.
No response.
Only more strangled gasps.
And blood.
Then—
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
The sound cut through everything.
Elaine slowly turned her head toward it.
A wooden clock.
It hadn't been there before. She was certain of it.
And yet now, it felt like the only thing that existed.
The only thing that mattered.
She stared at it as its hands moved slowly, steadily. Each second deliberate. Each tick heavier than the last.
It felt like a countdown.
To something inevitable.
To something final.
To something… meant for her.
The woman's gasps grew louder, more desperate, more unbearable. The breeze intensified, rushing into the room with force now, whipping Elaine's hair wildly around her face as though a storm had broken loose inside the walls.
It was too much.
Too loud.
Too overwhelming.
But she couldn't look away.
She couldn't block it out.
She couldn't even close her ears.
She was trapped, rooted to the spot, helpless.
Tears streamed down her face, large and uncontrollable, as the ticking grew louder. Louder. Louder.
And then—
Silence.
Everything stopped.
The storm. The sound. The gasps.
All of it.
The room fell into a heavy, suffocating stillness, the kind that comes after destruction.
The woman was no longer breathing.
The clock had stopped.
Eleven fifty.
The hands were frozen at exactly eleven fifty.
The same time her fate would be decided.
And then,
The next second,
A scream tore from Elaine's throat.
"No,no, no, no, no!"
The sound was raw, broken, desperate. She screamed again and again, her voice echoing through the empty space.
"No!"
Suddenly—
Arms wrapped tightly around her.
Strong. Unyielding.
A hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her screams.
But she fought.
She thrashed violently, her body moving with wild desperation.
She had to stop it.
She had to change it.
It couldn't be eleven fifty.
It couldn't.
She scratched, clawed, bit, anything she could do to break free. Her nails dug into skin, her teeth sank in, until she tasted blood. Saw blood.
Not just on her hands.
But on her mouth.
Still, the grip on her didn't loosen.
Not even for a second.
Time stretched, endless and suffocating, until finally,
Everything stopped.
Abruptly.
She wasn't in the room anymore.
The clock was gone.
The body was gone.
There was nothing.
Just her, and the warmth surrounding her.
Slowly, her mind began to clear, the chaos settling just enough for her to hear it.
A voice.
Soft. Reassuring. Repeating itself over and over like a lifeline.
"It's okay… it's okay… it's okay…"
Her breathing slowed.
"Allan…?" she called, her voice muffled slightly by the hand still covering her mouth, needing confirmation, needing him.
"Mmm," he responded quietly, not letting go, his chin resting gently against the top of her head, holding her securely against him.
She didn't say anything else.
She didn't need to.
The warmth of his embrace said enough.
He was here.
She was not alone.
And as calmness slowly washed over her, the fear began to fade. The blood, the horror, the suffocating dread, it all slipped away, leaving behind only faint, dull fragments of memory.
Memories she wouldn't fully understand on her own.
She would need him…
To tell her again.