I remember this place, I told myself as I felt the scratched, soaked trunk of a tree, I rubbed my palm across its scratches, as if recalling a battle within.
Rain drops sliding from the leaves made the only noise, and every step I took made a soft yet crispy breaking noise.
And my hawk like eyes searched every corner, if there were any, to this endless darkness.
I remember this place, I told myself again, as I breathed in the scent of damp wood, seeped in the little moonlight and remembered this very breeze tickle the hair at the back of my neck,
"Is it you again?" I screamed, and heard myself echo.
"I'm ready! Take me with you!" I demanded, fearful, yet certain.
And it was then, I saw myself, a much stronger, more mature, powerful vision of me, staring at me with horrific eyes and an emotionless face.
Don't be scared, I told myself.
"How can you not be scared of who you are?" He replied, in a hoarse voice, a hoarse voice, that woke me up in cold sweat demanding to go back.
I needed answers.
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