The Past Cannot Touch You Now

The night is quiet, but your body is screaming. A smell, a touch, a shadow in the corner—and suddenly you are back there.

The walls close in. The air grows thick with what happened.

You are not imagining it; the memory is real, and the fear is real. But listen—this is not a return.

You are not back in that room. You are here, in the watch, in the dark where the light still finds you.

The smell cannot undo the love that holds you now. The touch cannot reach through time to claim you again.

You are not defined by what was done to you, but by what lives in you still. The light was there then, hidden beneath the horror, waiting.

It is here now, brighter than the memory, stronger than the fear. You did not escape the darkness; the darkness simply lost its power over you.

Breathe. The past is a ghost.

You are alive.