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Like Medusa with snakes in her hair, I felt surrounded by unseen stories coiling around me. Each snake whispered tales of my struggles, their hisses muffled beneath the mask I wore.
It became my shield against a world that offered little room for authenticity, a barrier built to protect the fragile heart within me.
Chapter
Three
“The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved.”
– Mother Teresa
Sofiya
Still gasping for air and shaken from the nightmare, I pulled the covers over my head and counted to ten, trying to calm my racing heart.
The echoes of the dream stuck with me, making me break out in a cold sweat despite the room's warmth. I wiped my forehead and rubbed my eyes, yawning, but the haunting images just wouldn’t fade.
The nightmare hit me again: a faceless man with a deep voice and broad shoulders chased me through a dark, shadowy place. He was relentless, getting closer with every desperate step I took.
I tried to scream, but my voice was trapped in silence.
Everything around me twisted and melted like a weird painting, with buildings falling and skies collapsing. It felt like a whole other world where nothing made sense.
The faceless man’s whispers warned me not to trust anyone, not even myself.
Unlike any dream I’d had before, this one left me shivering with fear.
With a deep sigh, I pushed the covers aside and forced myself to face the day.
But as I got out of bed, a strange feeling gnawed at the back of my mind, a lingering sensation that I couldn’t quite shake off.
Then I heard a tapping against my bedroom shutters.
My blood ran cold.
What the hell was that?
“Sofiya, hurry up! I have a meeting with Professor Hamilton in thirty minutes!”
My mama’s sudden shout made me jump, and I instinctively put my hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming. Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself it was just her.
Gosh, she scared the living daylights out of me.
What a terrible way to start the day.
It's been three days since Claire and I argued, and despite all the apology texts I’ve sent, she hasn’t replied to any of them. I'm really sad that she won't respond and that our brief friendship seems to have ended this way.
So, to avoid feeling depressed about it, I’ve decided to focus all my attention on studying day and night. However, as I glanced around and saw the state of my bedroom, I was horrified by the chaos.
How did it get so messy?
I couldn’t even remember falling asleep or leaving everything scattered on the floor. They say a tidy room equals a tidy mind, and it was clear that my disorganized room reflected how I was feeling—disheveled, exhausted, and out of sorts.
I quickly got ready, taking a shower, applying some light makeup, and slipping into my favorite hoodie and jeans for comfort.
“Jesus, Sofiya!”
I rushed down the stairs and stopped in front of the door, where my mom was waiting in her usual black suit. She raised an eyebrow, took in my appearance, and shook her head in disappointment. I forced a smile, trying to mask my embarrassment, while she grabbed her lunch bag and car keys before heading out.
