Chapter 4: Nightmare Revisited

The taste of cheap champagne still burned in my throat, my stomach twisting with nausea. My arms and legs felt like lead, my thoughts thick and slow.

My vision blurred, shadows spinning across the room. I couldn’t tell who was who—faces flickered, laughter echoed, rough hands held me down.

Pain stabbed through me, sharp and blinding. My mind scrambled for a way out—focus on the carved rose in the headboard, the moonlight on the curtains, anything but the agony.

I wanted to die. But I refused to let go. Why should I be the one to die?

I clawed for breath, fighting the darkness, until I finally screamed—a ragged, desperate cry for help.

The nightmare’s grip squeezed tighter. The memory—raw, jagged—haunted me, even now, even in this second life.