Fractured Echoes

I wake to the hum of the lights, a relentless drone that fills my head like a swarm of angry bees. Where am I? The sheets are cool against my skin, but I can’t remember if I’m hot or cold. I blink, trying to bring the world into focus. The walls are white—too white—so sterile they seem to pulse, pressing in around me like the grip of a vice.

“Halston,” a voice says, soft and laced with something—concern? I can’t tell. I look toward the sound, but everything is a blur. A woman stands at the end of the bed, her face shifting like smoke, vanishing when I try to grasp it. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I can see it, the fear lurking there, just beneath the surface. It makes me feel uneasy.

“Who… who are you?” I croak, my throat dry, like sandpaper scraping against bone.

“Just a nurse, Halston. You’re safe here,” she says, but the words slip away, melting into the buzz of the lights, the shadows creeping along the walls. Whispers return, soft murmurs echoing in my mind, dancing just out of reach.

“Halston, you’re in St. Elara’s Home.” The name is familiar, but it feels like a distant echo, a word I’ve heard in a dream I can’t quite grasp. “It’s alright. You’re alright.”

Safe. The word hangs in the air, mocking me. I remember the last time I felt safe. Lucy’s laugh, bright and clear, breaking through the chaos. The image flickers—her pigtails swinging as she runs through the park, the sun glinting off her smile, her tiny hands clutching a bright red balloon. But now, there’s only the cold grip of fear. Where’s Lucy? “Where’s Lucy?” I ask, desperation creeping into my voice.

“Lucy’s not here, Halston,” the nurse replies.

“Why not?” Panic rises like bile in my throat. Lucy was always with me. She had a light that pushed back the shadows, that made everything feel okay.

“She’s… she’s playing with her friends,” the nurse says, eyes darting away, as if searching for something in the room that isn’t there. “But you’ll see her soon.” I feel like she is lying. Her answer feels practiced. Stale. Deflecting.

Soon. The word echoes in my mind, a promise I can’t grasp. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in my chest, the fluttering chaos that leaves me gasping for air. I remember… I was someone once—someone important. I had a job that meant something. I was an investigative journalist. I can see it, the city spread out beneath me, but the details slip through my fingers like grains of sand.

I was writing that day. I can feel the weight of my notebook, the urgency of the story pressing against me. I was focused, too focused. “Just a few more minutes,” I told myself, eyes glued to the page. Lucy was at the park, her laughter echoing outside, but I was lost in the world of my words. I should have been watching her. The guilt slams into me, a fist to the gut, a reminder of the moment everything changed.

“Where’s Lucy?” I repeat, the desperation rising.

“She’ll be here soon,” the nurse assures me, but the promise feels hollow. I can see the truth in her eyes; she’s lying. She doesn’t know. I feel my veins turn to ice—the sudden realization that maybe nobody knows. The shadows shift at the edge of my vision, swirling and coiling, whispering secrets I can’t quite hear.

“Are you watching me?” I ask, suddenly aware of the eyes in the walls. They blink slowly, the color of blood, red and unblinking. “You’re all watching me.”

The nurse looks startled, but she forces a smile. “No one’s watching you, Halston. You’re safe.”

“I’m here to pick up Lucy,” I say. “We’re going to the park.”

The woman in white smiles gently and pats me on the hand. “Lunch will be here soon. And I got extra tapioca pudding just for you. The doctor says no birthday cake when you’re 94. So tapioca it is.”

I like tapioca pudding, I think. I consider speaking to the woman in white standing over me. She’s pretty close for someone I’ve never met.

I can feel the weight of her gaze, pressing down, twisting in my chest like a thorn. “No one is here but us.” The shadows twitch, darting closer, the air growing thick with the weight of unspoken truths.

“Halston, you’re safe here,” she insists, but I sense the tremor in her voice. She’s trying to comfort me, but the truth is clear: I’m not safe.

“Help me!” I cry out, desperation clawing at my throat.

“Just breathe,” she says, her tone soothing, but I feel the tremor in her voice, the slight catch. “You’re okay.”

But I’m not okay. I can feel it, the darkness creeping closer, its tendrils curling around my thoughts. I’m trapped in a loop, a cycle of fear and confusion, struggling against the monster that gnaws at my mind, tearing it apart, piece by piece.

“Daddy!” a voice breaks through the chaos. “Daddy, wake up!”

Lucy. It’s Lucy. I can see her now, standing in the doorway, eyes bright and searching. “Daddy! We have to go! They’re coming!”

“Where?” I ask, panic flooding my chest. “Where do we go?”

“Just follow me!” she shouts, and the urgency in her voice pulls me forward, my legs moving on instinct. I run, but the floor shifts beneath me, and I stumble, falling to my knees.

“Daddy!” She reaches for me, but the shadows close in, swallowing her voice, pulling her back into the darkness.

“Lucy!” I cry, reaching out, but the distance between us grows, the shadows pulling her further away. I’m trapped, always trapped, in this nightmare that never ends.

“Wake up!” the whispers rise again, a haunting chorus that drowns out everything else. “Wake up!”

I feel like I am emerging from a pool of water. It’s the woman—the one with the tapioca pudding.

I like tapioca pudding I think.

I’m lost in a maze of memories that twist and turn, leading me back to the same dark place. I’m a ghost haunting my own life, trapped in a body that doesn’t remember what it was meant to do. The echoes of my past swirl around me, a cacophony of voices and shadows. I was an investigative journalist once. I chased the truth, but now the truth chases me, a relentless specter lurking just out of reach.

And I’m losing the fight. I can feel it in my bones, in the marrow, deep in my soul. “I can’t remember!” I scream, a howl of despair echoing through the room.

“Halston,” the nurse’s voice pulls me back, grounding me for a moment. “You need to breathe.”

I inhale slowly, forcing myself to calm the storm inside. I’m here. I was here! I fought against the darkness. I found the truth once. I have to remember!

But the darkness is winning. I can feel the pull, the gravity of forgetting. “Who am I?” I ask, a whisper, a plea against the encroaching shadows.

“You’re Halston Valentine. You’re a journalist.”

“Am I?” I ask, the question echoing in the emptiness.

I close my eyes, squeezing them shut, trying to breathe. I need to escape. I need Lucy.

“Lucy!” I scream, my voice a desperate cry in the void.

“Halston, please! You’re safe!” the nurse pleads.

But I can’t focus on her. The darkness pulls me deeper, wrapping around me like a suffocating shroud. I’m trapped, lost in a labyrinth of my own making, haunted by the ghosts of my past. I see police. A broken body. A funeral. Tears fall from my face. “Lucy” I try to call. my voice betrays me. Darkness envelops me.

I sense light. I don’t know if it has been minutes or hours or days “Halston, wake up!” the whispers chant, taunting me.

“Help me!” I cry out again, but the darkness pulls me under, swallowing my words whole.

I struggle against it, clawing at the edges of my mind, but the more I fight, the further I slip away. The whispers grow louder, a cacophony of voices rising in a symphony of despair. “You’re nothing, Halston. Just a fading memory.”

“NO!” I scream, the sound tearing from my throat, raw and desperate. I’m not fading! I’m here! I was here! I fought against the darkness. I found the truth once. I have to remember!

But the darkness is winning. I can feel the pull, the gravity of forgetting. I’m lost, forever trapped in this endless nightmare, a ghost haunting a life I can no longer grasp. The echoes of my past swirl around me, a cacophony of voices and shadows. I was an investigative journalist once. I chased the truth, but now the truth chases me, a relentless specter lurking just out of reach.

Suddenly, I drift into sleep. The buzz of the lights fades, but the whispers remain, twisting through my dreams like smoke. I find myself in a different place—a dark room, the air thick with tension. The cold metal of a chair presses against my back, binding me, squeezing me. I’m back in Korea, a prisoner, and the memories flash like lightning—blinding, electric, searing.

“Where is the truth?” a voice demands, harsh and grating. Shadows loom over me, figures with eyes that burn like coal. “You will tell us!”

I shake my head, but my throat is parched, words lost in the void. “I don’t know,” I whisper, the fear gripping me like a vice. The shadows close in, their faces hidden, their intentions dark and foreboding. I feel their breath on my neck, cold and clammy, and I recoil.

“Tell us!” they shout, their voices echoing in the darkness.

I bolt upright in bed, gasping for air. My heart races, pounding against my chest. I’m back in St. Elara’s, the sterile room surrounding me, but the shadows still linger, whispering secrets I can’t quite catch.

“Halston?” the nurse’s voice pulls me back. “Are you alright?”

I look down, and the reality of my body hits me. The warm wetness spreading beneath me. “I… I’m sorry,” I stammer, the shame crashing over me like a wave.

“Don’t worry, it happens,” she says, her voice soft, but I can see the pity in her eyes.

Pity. I’m a broken man, a fading memory, lost in this hell. “Where’s Lucy?” I ask, desperation creeping back in.

“She’ll be here soon,” she repeats, but I sense the lie in her words. She doesn’t know. The shadows still whisper, and I feel their weight pressing down on me, squeezing out the last remnants of my sanity.

“Help me!” I shout, my voice cracking.

“Just breathe,” she urges, but the words slip away as the darkness closes in again, and I’m left with the ghosts of my past, the memories that haunt me, the truth that eludes me.

“Wake up!” they chant. “Wake up!”

And I drift back into the shadows, lost, forever trapped in this endless nightmare.

I open my eyes “Is Lucy coming?”