The room shifts at the edges, the dark crawling closer until it’s hard to tell what’s real.
Sleep drags me down, heavy and cold.
And even in dreams, the wolves wait for me.
The room twists around me.The bed melts away. The walls groan, bending like bones under strain.
The floor shifts beneath my palms no longer wood.
Stone.
Cold.
Wet.
Bleeding at the seams.
I blink and the world tilts.
The cliff waits.
Below, the sea thrashes black, wild, teeth bared. The wind screams, slicing across my skin. I’m barefoot, stripped to shame and skin, the family’s sins carved into my bones.
They’re waiting for me.
My father. Uncle Liam. Conor.
All smiling. Shouting.
“Jump.”
The word cracks like a whip. I shake my head, step back. The earth groans, fractures beneath me.
“Jump.” Louder this time. A command built into blood.
And then I see him.
Matteo.
Across the gap, half in shadow, half in light. Arms outstretched. Lips moving, soundless.
I run. Heart pounding, lungs tearing. But the more I move, the farther he drifts.
He fades, I slow.
The cliff trembles.
Breaks.
Splinters.
I scream his name, but only blood spills out.
They pull. Hard.
The ground tears from beneath me.
I claw at the stone, nails breaking, skin splitting.
