UNNAMED [CHAPTER 5 — A forest of me]

CHAPTER 5 — A forest of me

“Beneath my skin, a forest grows,

rooted in silence, watered in sorrow.

Its trees do not bloom, they bleed —

and every step I take redraws the path I fear to follow.”

A smirk curled across my face as I looked at the crimson on my fingers.

“Why are you so happy?” the voice asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s proof that it wasn’t a nightmare. It wasn’t a dream. It was real. I haven’t gone insane.”

“So?”

“It means I was telling the truth. Everything really happened. That shadow girl is real, and it all happened near the paper violets.”

“Perhaps. It did happen. So what are you up to now?”

“Huh? What’s wrong with you now?”

“What? What’s wrong with me?”

“Yeah, you. Mr. All-Knowing — or shall I say, Mr. All-Knowing Liar.”

“What do you mean, little girl?”

“I mean exactly what I said. LIAR!” I screamed.

“Calm down, girl. Your parents will hear you. And you know what happens next, right?” the voice said softly, almost as if it cared.

“If you don’t want that to happen, why not tell me the truth?” I frowned, lying back on my bed.

The faint light that once pierced through the gaps of my fingers like sharp edges faded. My eyes grew watery, and everything started to blur.

“What truth? How could you, an insolent little girl, call me a liar when you’re the biggest liar of all? I’ve been more honest with you than anyone else,” the voice said, its words laced with pain and anger.

“I — I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blame you. I’m sorry,” I stammered, tears streaming down my cheeks.

“Ungrateful as ever. Now stop crying. You’re not five. You’re seventeen. Act like it,” the voice snapped.

Something inside me stirred.

“Don’t twist things around. You lied to me. You said nothing happened — that she was never there. Why did you lie?”

“There you go again, like a deathmoth drawn to a flame, diving into things that will only bring you pain. Don’t go there, my little girl.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said. Don’t go there. Please, think of it as one of your nightmares. Forget about her.”

“But why? Who is she?”

“Believe me, you don’t need to know. It’s best for you.”

“I’m seventeen. I have the right to know. She felt familiar. That promise she mentioned… you know about it, don’t you?”

“Don’t go there, please. You’re just my little girl, and you always will be.”

I didn’t understand. Why wouldn’t the voice tell me the truth when it knew everything?

A chill ran down my spine. Before I realized it, I stood up and began searching for my blades, unaware of my own actions.

There it was — resting on my study desk, buried among pencils, pens, and clutter.

As I reached for the case, something slipped from my grasp — a blue-azure highlighter.

I thought, ironically, that the case I kept it in was more highlighted than the highlighters themselves.

Is it the same here? The voice knows the truth yet refuses to tell me, trying so hard to hide it…

Maybe the weight of hiding the truth has become heavier than the truth itself.

Lost in thought, I barely noticed when I opened the case.

The blade had already traced a few lines on my arm.

Muscle memory, I suppose.

With each pass, the blade cut deeper, increasing the distance between layers of skin.

The clouds in my mind began to part, and my heart felt just a little lighter.

Scarlet began tracing my skin, slowly but steadily, leaving a red stain behind.

Would the inside of my skin be painted red as well?

A thought surfaced.

I made another line where the red stain lingered.

What would happen if I removed my skin comple —

“How long will you keep doing this?” the voice asked with quiet concern.

“As long as it helps,” I replied without hesitation.

The voice fell silent — almost… sad.

“Don’t be sad. You know this isn’t the first time. And you know I won’t die from this much, right?” I said, trying to reassure it.

“You won’t die, but… are you really living, girl?”

“I’m breathing, aren’t I?”

“Breathing isn’t living, and you know that. So why do you keep doing this? Why are you hurting yourself?”

“This is the only way I know to keep myself together. And as long as it works, it’s fine. Don’t you think?” I said with a faint smile.

I lay back on my bed, my body sinking into the mattress, weighed down by an invisible force.

The voice was eerily silent.

Had I said too much?

Maybe.

But I only spoke the truth… didn’t I?

Or perhaps I should’ve chosen my words more carefully.

My thoughts spiraled, twisting and turning until, eventually, sleep pulled me under.

I lay there, the blade resting loosely in my hand.

My mind drifted between heavy breaths and the faint sting on my skin.

The air thickened.

The dim light flickered.

Shadows twisted along the walls.

I blinked. Once. Twice.

The ceiling rippled — like the surface of water.

And then…

The softness of the mattress beneath me faded. It became solid like rock.

The warmth turned into a burning fire, trying to consume me.

I opened my eyes — sunlight burned through cracks in a pale sky.

I was lying on a rock.

I hurriedly jumped away.

I stood barefoot on cold ash.

Though my body still burned, my feet quickly adjusted to the temperature.

The air smelled of scorched earth — metallic and raw.

Each step stirred fine dust that clung to my skin and settled in my throat, making each breath dry and heavy.

Not a single fallen leaf lay on the ground, though the trees were dry and lifeless.

There was no sign of life, just silence.

The only sound was the soft crushing of ash beneath my feet as I walked.

And walked.

And walked.

Time blurred.

My feet grew brittle.

My throat twitched, dry and aching for water.

The ashes stung my eyes.

A tear slipped down my cheek and met my lips.

“It’s sour,” I whispered, hoping someone might hear me.

But no one did.

The sun disappeared, and night took its place.

The chill of the air dulled my thirst just a little.

Something appeared on the horizon — I followed it.

A forest.

Relief bloomed in my chest.

If a forest existed, then surely there must be water.

I walked deeper.

There wasn’t a single leaf on the ground — only thick grass everywhere.

I reached for a leaf on the nearest tree.

The moment my fingers brushed the branch, crimson bled from the bark — like veins bursting beneath translucent skin.

My heart pounded.

Confusion seized me.

“Is this… a dream?” I whispered.

I pressed forward, leaving red footprints behind.

Every tree I touched bled the same.

With each step, fear crept further into my mind.

My body grew heavier, as though the air itself was pressing me down.

I want to get away from this place. I need to go somewhere safe,

the thought echoed in my head.

“I’m tired… I walked for what felt like forever, only to end up here,” I cried, breaking down.

I ran.

Eventually, I stumbled into a strange garden.

The scent of decay mingled with something faintly sweet — almost sickly.

Small, unfamiliar plants lined a narrow trail.

Desperation drove me forward, but my limbs grew heavier.

My feet brushed against brittle bristles.

I lost balance and collapsed among the plants.

Crimson seeped from them, just like the trees.

It pooled around me, rising, swallowing me whole.

The warmth of the liquid soaked into my clothes, sticky and thick.

It clung to my skin, dragging me deeper.

Was this my blood… or theirs?

The weight of the world pressed against my chest as I drowned in the blood-red tide.

My body sank, deeper and deeper, as consciousness slipped away —

and the crimson consumed me.

And the world, at last, turned silent.

I didn’t scream. I simply disappeared.

— to be continued…

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Genre: Psychological Horror, Dark Psychological Fiction, Surrealism, Speculative Fiction, Literary Fiction.