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Eliza

ELIZA

"Too hot," Mother murmurs, her voice a fragmented lullaby taut with dread. "She's too hot."

My body smolders with a relentless heat, each breath a hot coal stoking the inferno within. I am lost in a delirious ocean of feverish visions, my consciousness consumed by the distant echoes of hushed voices and looming shadows that gather around my bed. Mother's hand, once steady as she sewed delicate patterns by lamplight, now quivers against my burning forehead.

The air is heavy with the scent of illness and fear, tinged with the acrid tang of medicine. Every movement feels like a struggle against the flames raging through my body, threatening to consume me completely.

Father's presence looms like a storm cloud at the foot of the bed. He's a silhouette torn from the pages of my childhood stories—the ones where the dark held monsters that feasted on the weak. But it's not the darkness I fear now; it's the light fading from their eyes when they look at me.

"Martha..." His voice quakes, the name hanging between them—a plea, a prayer. "We cannot tarry. The risk?—"

I want to scream, beg them to stay, but my throat is a barren well, words dying before they reach the surface. Mother's tears, silent sentinels of our shared sorrow, spill over, tracing paths down her cheeks. She whispers so quietly I have to strain against the sickness fogging my mind.

"The forest... We must take her there."

Father's voice trembled as he spoke, his resolve faltering under the weight of fear. His eyes darted toward the dark woods, haunted by memories of battles fought against demons far more terrifying than those lurking in the shadows. I knew too well the beast that had consumed him, the drink that had robbed him of his strength and spirit countless times before. The mere mention of it sent a chill down my spine, for I had witnessed its devastating effects on my father firsthand.

"Better the forest than death at our doorstep," Mother counters. Her gaze shifts to my sisters, the unspoken truth hanging heavy in the small room—we are already dancing with death, it's cold fingers entwined with mine.

"Far from here," Father agrees, his whisper harsh like the wind that rattles our windows. "Deep within, where this sickness can't spread its poison."

They think I don't hear or hope I don't understand. But I do. I've always understood more than they believed. I've always seen the glances exchanged over my head and heard the sighs when they thought me asleep. The sickly, unimportant child—that's who I was to them.

Despite their constant disappointment in me, I can't help but feel a deep love for my parents. It's like ivy clinging to my heart and refusing to let go. Even as they care for me in my feverish state, I am torn between gratitude and anger towards them. My skin prickles with sweat and fear, uncertain how to reconcile these conflicting emotions.

"Forgive us, ," Mother whispers, her lips brushing my temple. It's a kiss goodbye, though she doesn't say it. There is no need for words when your life becomes a tale of caution, whispered from mother to child—of the girl taken by the woods, never to return.

A frigid wind howls through the dense forest, sending shivers down my spine. The air seems to thicken with an oppressive sense of dread as the trees themselves reach out, clamoring for their next victim. My heart races with fear and uncertainty, but amidst it all, a glimmer of hopelessness takes hold in the depths of my soul. How could I, a mere girl, possibly stand a chance against the ageless and ravenous shadows lurking within this forest?

The world blurs, a hazy jumble of shifting shadows and whispered phrases. They wrap me in layers of warm wool; a soft cocoon shields me from the biting cold every fold.

Then we walk.

The wind whistles through the twisted branches like a mournful song, the rhythm of our footsteps the only other sound in this eerie landscape. I try to cling to my memories of this place, of laughter and sunlight filtering through the leaves, but they are fading under the weight of fear and uncertainty.

The trees loom closer, their gnarled roots reaching out like grasping hands. I shudder at the thought of what could be lurking in their shadows, waiting for its next victim.

I steal a glance at my parents walking beside me. My mother's face is etched with worry and grief, while my father's jaw is clenched tight, his eyes scanning our surroundings with a fierce intensity. They are my protectors, my shelter from the storms of life. But now, we are all alone in this dangerous journey.

"Where are we going?" I croak out, playing the part of their oblivious, sickly child.

They don't respond.

As we walk deeper into the heart of the forest, I can feel a sense of unease building within me. The air grows thicker and colder, warning us to turn back before it's too late.

But we continue on, and I feel the strength draining from my sick body. I must lie soon, or I fear I will fall.

A rustling sound catches my attention from somewhere nearby. My heart stops as I strain to listen for any further noises—it could be just an animal... or something far more sinister.

"." my mother's voice breaks a delicate crack of porcelain in the night.

It's then that my strength leaves me completely, and I fall to the soft forest floor. I need to rest.

"You'll be safe here." Her hands tremble against the blankets, tucking them tighter around me as if she could ward off this nightmare with mere cloth.

"Mother..." My throat is sandpaper, the word a rasping leaf in the wind. She doesn't hear, or maybe she can't bear to. I've never been the one to command her attention, always the frail afterthought to her sturdier dreams.

The clearing emerges like a stage set for some tragic play, the moonlight a reluctant spotlight on the impending drama. They lower me to the ground, and a bed of moss and twigs is now my only comfort. The sky above is an abyss, stars hidden behind a curtain of despair.

"Please," I whisper, the plea lost to the vast expanse above. "Don't do this."

But their faces are etched with a resolution born of fear. This is what it means to be disposable, to be the sacrifice upon which their safety hinges. They back away, and with each retreating step, the last vestiges of warmth flee from my reach.

"Be strong, ," my father says, his voice choked by a sob he would never dare let loose. It is the closest thing to the affection he has ever shown me, and it is given at the moment of my abandonment.

I watch their silhouettes merge with the shadows, the finality settling over me like a death shroud. Here, in the heart of the forest, I am alone—left to the mercy of a world that has never shown me any.

The forest breathes around me, a living entity of shadows and whispers. My heart races to match the rhythm of rustling leaves that speak in hushed tones of my vulnerability. I pull the blankets tighter, but they are no match for the night's chill nor the fever that burns through me like wildfire. The air is a cruel thief, stealing the warmth from my bones and leaving me shivering and exposed.

Owls call out with a haunting cadence, their cries echoing the fear that tightens its grip on my chest. I am a small, frail thing in the vastness of this ancient place, a place where creatures with gleaming eyes and sharp teeth roam under the cover of darkness. The thought sends tremors through my already quaking body, and each shudder is a testament to my helplessness.

"Help," the word falls from my cracked lips, a futile gesture against the enormity of my solitude. But the forest swallows my plea, indifferent to my plight.

My mind, once sharp, now wades through the mire of delirium. Images of my family's retreating backs blend with monstrous visions that dance at the edge of my consciousness. They have left me here, a tainted offering to the unseen horrors that claim these woods as their own.

I cling to hope, the fragile thread that keeps despair at bay. Someone must come—someone who braves the night and sees past my insignificance. My sisters, perhaps, stricken by guilt, retracing their steps through the maze of trees. But time stretches into eternity, each moment a lifetime, and with every breath, I feel my strength waning, slipping through my fingers like sand.

"Please," I whisper again into the darkness, my voice a ghost of itself. "Don't let me die here." Yet even as I speak, I know the truth of my words; they are the anthem of the forsaken, sung by a choir of one, unheard and unheeded.

The night grows colder, and my thoughts become more fragmented. With its gnarled branches and hidden eyes, this forest may be the last thing I ever see. Fear consumes me, a feast for the insatiable dread that has found a home in the pit of my stomach.

"Come for me," I plead to the uncaring moon, to the indifferent stars. But there is no answer—only the wind's mournful sigh and the distant howl of a creature that calls this shadowy realm its kingdom.

Tears carve pathways through the grime on my cheeks, and with a voice as thin as spider silk, I murmur prayers into the night's chill embrace. "Help... please..." The words are frail, swallowed by the vastness around me. My lips tremble, each syllable a shard of ice, my plea a wisp of vapor in the cold air.

My eyelids droop, heavy as stone, and a crushing weariness seeps into my bones. I fight against the pull of sleep, but it's a losing battle; the fever has sapped all my strength, leaving me adrift in a sea of exhaustion. I succumb, slipping beneath the surface of consciousness into a world where the shadows of abandonment dance mockingly around me.

I dream—a twisted mosaic of memories and fears. My family's retreating backs blur with the looming shapes of trees, their roots entangling my limbs, holding me captive. Whispers of the wind morph into my mother's sobs and my father's shaking voice while the darkness presses closer, suffocating and unrelenting.

"Don't leave..."

In the silence between heartbeats, the forest holds its breath—an owl hoots, a melancholy lament that echoes the emptiness inside me. Somewhere far off, a wolf howls, a lonely sentinel in the shadowy expanse. Their cries are the only signs of life. The rest of the world seemingly vanished, leaving me to fend off my nightmares alone.

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