You were cursed—born with the ability to see things no one ever should. Visions crept into your sleep, gruesome and vivid, tearing you awake in the dead of night. You’d wake screaming, drenched in sweat, your heart racing from horrors that felt far too real to be dreams.

It started when you were eight. Your family moved into a house tucked near the mountains, surrounded by dense woods. It was supposed to be a fresh start—quiet, beautiful, full of adventure. You loved the open air, the trees, the promise of exploration.

Until the dreams began.

Night after night, you’d wake crying, running to your parents’ room or curling up beside your sister because you were too terrified to stay alone. The house felt different after dark, as if something unseen lingered just beyond your door.

When you were eighteen, during your senior year of high school, you met Ni-ki. He was the first person who didn’t dismiss your fear—didn’t call you paranoid when you refused to walk the path through your yard alone. It wasn’t blind affection that made him stay; it was patience. Understanding. He’d heard of cases like yours before, and he believed you.

Now you were married, living with him in a quiet suburban neighborhood—neat houses, open streets, no woods, no shadowed paths. Safe. Or at least it should have been. But the nightmares never stopped.

That night, your dream was different.

You watched Ni-ki leave for work, the scene warped and suffocating. A truck appeared out of nowhere, speeding—metal colliding, glass shattering. The impact was instant. Final.

You jolted upright, gasping, your skin slick with sweat. Panic clawed at your chest, words trapped in your throat. Beside you, Ni-ki stirred, immediately alert. He sat up, concern flooding his eyes as he reached for you.

“Baby? It’s okay, I’m here,” he murmured, voice soft, grounding.

“Hey, I’ve got you. Shh,” he whispered, fingers threading gently through your hair. He didn’t press for answers—he never did. Instead, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close until your breathing steadied, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.