𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 , 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐨

Sage’s eyes flew open, the forest air a biting cold against her skin, a stark contrast to the burning turmoil within her. Short, ragged breaths escaped her lips as she wrestled with the rising tide of terror. The plane crash – every horrifying detail leading up to this moment – surged back, threatening to drown her. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs, its frantic beat eclipsing the distant, muffled sounds of others moving in the debris.

The night remained a suffocating nightmare, its twisted edges still sharp in her memory. The screams, raw and desperate, echoed in the hollows of her mind. Each of her stepfather's angry words reverberated like a fresh wound, refusing to scab over and fade.

“Nothing but a waste. A waste of air, a waste of space.”

She gasped, unable to draw breath. A heavy weight pressed down on her chest, stealing the air from her lungs. His voice, his presence, the memories of him, threatened to consume her. Her father's cutting words repeated endlessly in her mind.

“You'll never be good enough for anyone.”

Once again, she was trapped. Trapped in the suffocating confines of that memory. The air there was thick with a chilling cold, a tangible anger that pressed in on her. The stinging words, sharper than any physical blow, echoed in the silence. Her breath hitched, shallow and ragged. Focus, she willed herself. Focus on the present. But the past held her in a relentless grip.

She squeezed her eyes shut, a futile attempt to banish the relentless images. Each one surged forward, a fresh wave threatening to drown her in a suffocating sea of hopelessness and guilt: the sickening crunch of the crash, the mangled wreckage, the faces of the others. A desperate need to focus on them, to stay present, warred with the insidious whisper of her father's voice, his shadow a persistent stain on her thoughts. The terror, a relic of years of abuse, remained vivid, playing out its familiar horror show within the confines of her mind.

No. Focus. This was now. The twisted metal, the groans – they were real. She had to get up. Help. But each twitch of a muscle unleashed a fresh wave of memory, a brutal undertow threatening to drag her back. His hand, a phantom weight, tightened around her throat. His voice, a venomous whisper, still echoed in her mind, a puppeteer's strings pulling her down.

His voice, low and gravelly, echoed in the narrow alleyway. “You'll never escape me.”

The mere thought ignited a sharp spike of panic in her chest. She staggered, fighting to stand, but her body felt like lead, utterly unresponsive. Violent tremors shook her limbs as she desperately gripped a nearby tree, her knees buckling, threatening to surrender to the encroaching wave of panic.

A voice, sharp yet laced with concern, sliced through the fog in Sage's mind. "Sage." It was Natalie. Her tone held no judgment, only a pressing urgency. "Sage, hey, breathe. Focus on me."

Sage's head spun, the familiar shapes of the forest dissolving into a disorienting blur. Natalie's voice, though close, seemed to echo from a distance, the only anchor in the swirling chaos. Crouched low, Natalie's face was a mask of worry, her outstretched hand hovering hesitantly before gently touching Sage's arm.

The voice, cold and absolute, echoed in her mind: "You're nothing. You'll never get out of this." A strangled "No" escaped Sage's lips, her head shaking violently. "I— I can't—" she gasped, the words catching in her throat.

“Yes, you can," Natalie stated firmly, her voice slicing through the chaos that gripped Sage's mind. "I'm here, okay? You're safe now. This isn't back there. You're not alone. Just breathe with me, alright?”

Sage nodded, the weight of a suffocating fear pressing down on her chest. She fixated on Natalie's even breathing, attempting to synchronize her own, but the effort felt futile. Each time her eyelids fluttered shut, his voice echoed in her mind, his touch a phantom sensation on her skin. Pathetic. You're so weak, just like your mother. The cruel words reverberated, a fresh wave of shame washing over her.

Her hands trembled as she clutched at her chest, a desperate attempt to anchor herself against the surging panic that constricted her breath into ragged gasps.

"Just like your mother..." The words hung in the air, thick with accusation. "I— I'm sorry," Sage whispered, her voice cracking, each syllable a raw plea. Panic clawed at her throat, making it impossible to speak clearly. "I can't... I can't stop—"

Natalie's voice softened, the grounding firmness still present. "Don't apologize. You don't need to apologize for what you're going through. This isn't weakness; it's survival. And you're not alone, remember that."

Natalie's words, sharp and clear, began to pierce through Sage's fear-induced haze, bringing a painful sting to her eyes as tears threatened to spill. And you're not alone, remember that.

"Just breathe," Natalie murmured again, her hand a comforting weight on Sage's arm. "Remember, you're not alone in this."

Once more, Sage squeezed her eyes shut, each breath a conscious effort to tether herself to the present. The nightmare, an unwelcome constant, hadn't receded, but Natalie's voice, a familiar beacon, and the warmth of her presence acted as a powerful anchor, drawing Sage back from the edge of the past.

Though the harsh, unforgiving tone of her stepfather's voice still echoed in her mind, it had softened, receding into the background as her focus sharpened on Natalie. You'll never escape me. The words, while present, lacked their former sting. This time, a grounding presence stood beside her.

She inhaled deeply, the air trembling slightly as it filled her lungs, a conscious effort to dispel the encroaching darkness. Gradually, the frantic rhythm of her heart softened its frantic pace. The sharp edges of terror blurred into a duller ache, a persistent hum beneath the surface, present but no longer all-consuming. She couldn't predict the duration of this fragile calm, but in this present moment, with Natalie's reassuring presence beside her, a flicker of hope ignited. Perhaps, just perhaps, she possessed the strength to endure.