Love In Darkness

The morning light filtered softly through my curtains as I slowly rolled out of bed. The air in the room was still heavy with the scent of last night's rain, and as I stretched, I could almost feel the earth waking up with me. My fingers brushed against the window, and I watched as the sun began its lazy climb into the sky, casting golden beams over everything. It felt like the start of something-new, fresh, and full of possibilities.

With a deep breath, I forced myself to shake off the weight of the lingering drowsiness. The first day of university. I could already feel the pulse of anticipation in the air, and it seemed to mirror the fluttering in my chest. It was a strange combination of excitement and nervousness, but I was ready. At least, I told myself I was.

The sound of my phone broke the stillness, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced at the screen, seeing Vera's name flash across it. My best friend was always early-never once late to anything-and her energy was enough to give me a little jolt of excitement. "Hello?"

"You better not be still in bed, Nena!" Vera's voice rang through the speaker, filled with her usual exuberance.

"Of course not," I replied, though I was already in the process of fixing my hair.

She laughed. "We're waiting downstairs, hurry up! Samuel says he can't wait to see you."

Samuel. My boyfriend.

With a soft smile, I put my phone down. Samuel was always so patient, so steady, in a way that calmed me. As I combed through my hair, I thought about how lucky I was to have him. He was my comfort zone in a world that often felt uncertain, but deep down, I knew there was something about today that was going to make everything feel different.

I finished dressing quickly, put on a light coat, and grabbed my bag before heading out the door. Vera was already waiting by the curb, bouncing on her heels, her platinum blonde hair shining in the sunlight. Samuel was beside her, his easy smile lighting up his face when he saw me.

"Hey," he greeted me, his voice warm as he offered his hand. I took it, feeling the familiar rush of affection. He kissed me on the cheek, making my heart skip a beat.

"Ready for today?" Vera asked, walking ahead of us.

I nodded, trying to shake off the feeling of nervous anticipation. "Definitely. I just hope we can all stay in touch, even though we're in different classes."

"Don't worry about that," Samuel said, squeezing my hand reassuringly. "It'll be fine. Besides, you'll make new friends."

We arrived at the campus, and after some good-natured teasing from Vera, we parted ways. She and Samuel headed off to their biology classes, while I found my way to the literature department. My heart was pounding a little harder now, as if my body knew something I didn't. I walked through the grand entrance of the university, my footsteps echoing as I made my way toward the literature department. The campus was a mix of excitement and nerves, the chatter of new students filling the air. I couldn't help but feel a little out of place as I navigated the sea of faces, all so eager and confident. Still, I reminded myself I belonged here.

When I finally found my classroom, I hesitated for a moment outside the door, taking a deep breath. My fingers ran over the fabric of my jacket as I pushed it open and stepped inside. The room was filled with students, all chattering and exchanging nervous glances.

I found an empty seat in the back, trying to blend in, though my heart wouldn't stop thumping. As I settled into the chair, I glanced around, trying to take in everything-the faint smell of chalk dust, the way the sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows on the wooden desks.

I was so lost in my thoughts when the bell rang that it took me a second to realize the class was starting. The door opened, and in walked Ms. Dora. She was everything I imagined a professor to be-tall, with sharp features and short black hair that framed her face perfectly. She had the air of someone who was both incredibly intimidating and incredibly smart.

She greeted the class with a firm, no-nonsense tone, and then turned to begin introducing us. But just as I was about to introduce myself, the door swung open abruptly, cutting off my words.

I turned, irritation creeping up my spine, only to be met by the last thing I expected-a man.I turned, irritation still simmering, only to be met by the last thing I expected-a man. His presence was commanding, and the moment he stepped into the room, a strange sense of gravity seemed to pull my gaze toward him. He was tall, strikingly handsome in a way that felt almost otherworldly. His dark hair fell over his face, and his sharp features carried an undeniable edge.

"Late again?" Ms. Dora's voice broke through the strange tension that had settled in the room.

The man apologized, his voice smooth and deep, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. He introduced himself to the class, his gaze sweeping over everyone.

"Amer Patrick," he said, his eyes briefly locking onto mine. There was something about his look-intense, calculating-that made my stomach flutter uncomfortably.

As Ms. Dora gestured to an empty seat, I glanced down at my notebook, my fingers suddenly unable to focus on the scribbles I was trying to write. I felt a strange pull, like I was being drawn into something I couldn't fully understand.

He didn't seem to notice. Or perhaps, he didn't care.

I watched as he walked toward the only empty chair-right next to mine. My breath caught when he sat down beside me, his presence like a shadow falling over me. He turned to offer a soft, almost polite smile, extending his hand.

"Hi, I'm Amer."

I froze for a moment before shaking his hand. The touch was brief, but it sent an inexplicable shiver through me.

"Nena," I murmured, pulling my hand back.

The lesson began, but my attention was elsewhere. Throughout the class, my thoughts kept drifting back to him-the way he moved, the way he spoke, and, above all, the way he looked at me. There was an intensity in his gaze, something unspoken, that I couldn't shake off.

Why did I feel like I knew him?

I jolted awake, gasping for air, the remnants of my nightmare clinging to me like a heavy fog. The sharp, unfamiliar chill in the room made my skin prickle, as if the dream had seeped into the very walls of my bedroom. My heart hammered in my chest as I looked around, confused. It was still my room, but it felt foreign, as if I had just woken up in a place I didn't belong.

The clock on the wall blinked three o'clock. Three a.m. The number seemed too still, too cold, too deliberate in the darkness. I glanced at the window, wide open despite my certainty that I'd closed it before going to bed. The wind howled, pushing the curtains inward like long fingers reaching for me. A shiver ran through me as I crossed the room to close it, the cold floor beneath my feet a sharp contrast to the warmth of the bed I'd just abandoned. The night air hit my face, heavy with the promise of something I couldn't quite place.

"Calm down, Nena,"I muttered to myself, though my voice barely carried in the silence. I forced the window shut, the soft click of the latch louder than it should have been in the quiet room. But the unsettling feeling didn't leave, and neither did the strange sense that something was off, something just beyond my understanding.

I crawled back into bed, pulling the covers over my shoulders as if they could shield me from the dark thoughts swirling in my head. But sleep wouldn't come, not with the images of the dream still fresh in my mind. I had felt the presence of someone there, their hand reaching for me, but I couldn't see their face. My mind churned, trying to make sense of the lingering feeling of fear. Why had it felt so real?

With a frustrated sigh, I grabbed my phone, seeking a distraction. It was nearly time to get up anyway. The notification on the screen was from Vera, reminding me that today was the first day of class, the beginning of everything I'd been waiting for, yet dreading at the same time. The excitement I'd felt only days ago now seemed distant, replaced by the gnawing feeling in my stomach, the unsettling remnants of the dream and the strange chill that wouldn't leave.

I pushed myself out of bed and dragged myself through my morning routine, mechanically brushing my teeth, changing into my clothes, and applying just a touch of makeup. My reflection in the mirror seemed foreign, too-my own face, but somehow not mine. The girl staring back at me had a glint of unease in her eyes, a flicker of doubt that I didn't recognize.

The house was quiet when I left. My dad was away on another business trip, and my mom was too busy with his affairs to even notice I was gone. I stepped outside, feeling the cool autumn air bite at my skin. The day was supposed to be full of promise-new beginnings, new experiences-but I couldn't shake the sense that something was off, that I was walking into something I couldn't control.

As I made my way to the university, my thoughts wandered to Amer. He was in my class now, the one person I couldn't stop thinking about, the one who seemed to have an unsettling pull on me. Every time he was near, my chest tightened, my heart beat faster than normal, but not in the way it did when Samuel was around. No, with Amer, it was different, like something dark and dangerous, something I wasn't ready to face.

When I finally walked into the classroom, I saw him immediately. Tall, dark, and impossibly handsome, Amer entered just as the bell rang. He was dressed in black pants and a dark shirt, his hair hanging messily over his eyes, a faint beard on his chin. I couldn't tear my gaze away. My heart thudded in my chest, and I had to look away quickly, pretending to focus on the notebook in front of me.

I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't ready for him.

He walked to the desk beside me, his scent intoxicating-something deep, something dangerous. I tried to steady my breath as he sat down, but my hands felt cold as ice. I couldn't understand it. Why was I trembling? Why was he having this effect on me?

"Are you okay, Nena?" Amer's voice was soft, but there was an edge to it, a tone I couldn't quite decipher. His dark eyes searched mine, as if looking for something. His concern seemed too genuine, too disarming.

"I'm fine. Why do you ask?" I couldn't help the sharpness in my voice, though it didn't quite come out as I intended. I wanted to snap at him, to demand why he was invading my space, but something in his gaze stopped me. He wasn't the enemy, not really.

"You're shaking," he said, and before I could react, his hand reached out to touch mine.

I froze. His skin was warm, but it sent a shock through me that was anything but comforting. My body instinctively pulled away, the movement sudden and harsh. I couldn't control it.

Amer seemed unfazed, his hand dropping back to his side. "Alright," he said with a small shrug, as if he hadn't just made my heart stop.

Before I could gather my thoughts, the teacher entered. Ms. Dora, tall and elegant, started her usual spiel, introducing the class and giving us our first assignment. I couldn't concentrate. All I could think about was the strange feeling that lingered after Amer's touch, the inexplicable tremor that still ran through my fingers. What was this? Why was it him? The class dragged on, but my mind kept wandering back to Amer. We were assigned to work in pairs, and I couldn't believe my bad luck when Ms. Dora paired us together. It felt like a cruel joke, a punishment for something I hadn't even done. Every word he spoke, every glance, made my heart race, but not in the way I wanted it to. It was as if he could see right through me, his presence suffocating in a way I couldn't explain.

I clenched my fists under the table, trying to ignore the tremble in my hands.

"Let's get this over with," I muttered, forcing myself to speak. I wanted to get the assignment done quickly, to escape this suffocating tension between us. "We can go to the library after class. Find some books on 15th-century literature."

Amer didn't even look at me when he replied, his voice cool and detached. "I'm busy today."

The rejection stung, but I couldn't show it. Not now. Not with him. "What do you mean, busy? We need to work together on this."

"I don't owe you an explanation," he said, his voice sharper now, a slight edge of irritation creeping in. "Do what you want. I'll help you later."

I gritted my teeth, fighting the anger bubbling inside me. "You' re impossible," I said under my breath, but he didn't react. It was like I wasn't even there, and it made my skin crawl.

After the class ended, I stormed out, barely waiting for Vera or Samuel. I didn't care where I was going, just that I had to get away from him. Away from the suffocating weight of his indifference.

Outside, the cool air didn't help to clear my head. My thoughts raced, tumbling over each other in a chaotic mess. I felt so... exposed, like he knew something about me that I didn't even understand yet.

I didn't want to go back. I didn't want to face him again, not after today. But of course, I had to. So, I went home, spent the evening aimlessly pacing around my room, trying to focus on anything other than the storm inside my head.

When the evening finally passed, the dream returned. It wasn't the same one, but it left me just as shaken. The fear was the same, the presence was the same, and once again, I woke up at three o'clock, the same time, the same icy cold room. Something was wrong, and I couldn't shake it.

I went through the motions the next day-getting up, getting ready, going to class-but it felt like I was moving through a fog, disconnected from everything around me. The eerie feeling of being watched lingered like a shadow, and when I walked into the cafeteria that afternoon, I couldn't ignore the sharp pain that shot through my foot.

I stumbled forward, and in slow motion, I saw the coffee cup fly out of my hand, the scalding liquid spilling across my chest. I heard the laughter before I even registered the pain, the humiliation. I stood frozen, holding the empty cup, coffee dripping down my front, a heavy silence hanging over me.

And then I heard it. The laugh.

Amer.

It made everything worse. His deep, mocking laughter echoed through the cafeteria, and I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, the tears welling in my eyes. Rebecca stood there, smirking as if it were all my fault.

"Watch where you're going," she sneered, but I couldn't bring myself to respond. The humiliation was suffocating.

Vera and Samuel came to my side, but I couldn't speak. I turned and left, the laughter following me out the door, the sting of their words like a thousand needles.

I didn't want to face the rest of the day. I didn't want to see Amer or anyone else. I wanted to disappear.

At home, I locked myself in my room. The stain on my shirt wouldn't come out, and I couldn't stop replaying the scene in my head. Rebecca's cruel laugh. Amer's mocking eyes.

I tried to distract myself by picking up my father's car keys. I knew it was wrong. I knew I shouldn't take the car, not at 17, not without a license. But the frustration, the anger inside me, had nowhere else to go.

I got in the car, not knowing where I was going, just needing to be somewhere, anywhere but here. The road stretched out in front of me, endless, empty. My phone buzzed relentlessly, but I ignored it. I couldn't deal with anyone, not now.

And then it happened. The sharp sound of impact. The screech of tires.

I hit someone.

I slammed the brakes, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The world seemed to tilt as I stared at the body in front of me. Blood. Too much blood.

I got out of the car, my hands trembling. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.

The person on the ground-Amer.

His lifeless eyes stared up at me, and everything stopped. The world, my heart, the breath in my lungs-all stopped as I stood frozen in horror, the blood on my hands the only thing real.

When I realized the person I had hit was Amer, my entire body went cold, like ice had flooded my veins. I couldn't move. I just stared at him, helpless and paralyzed. The anger I had felt earlier that day seemed so small now, a distant memory, completely insignificant compared to what I had just done. My mind couldn't grasp the reality of it. He was lying there, motionless. I had hurt him. He didn't deserve this. The tears started flowing uncontrollably, and for the first time, I felt utterly powerless.

I reached out to him, my hands trembling, but I couldn't bring myself to touch him. It was like I was afraid I might make everything worse. He had been so frustrating earlier, yes, but this was beyond anything I had ever imagined. I had wanted him to understand, to feel my anger, but this wasn't how it was supposed to end.

The silence around us was deafening. There were no cars, no sounds, just my panicked breathing and the throbbing in my head. I was alone with him, and I had no idea what to do. My stomach churned as I tried-desperately-to lift him, but he was too heavy, too limp. The world seemed to collapse around me, dark and crushing. I couldn't fix this. I didn't know how.

But then, a tiny movement. His eyes flickered open. My heart lurched as I caught my breath, a fleeting moment of relief before the panic returned. He looked so fragile, so vulnerable, and I felt a wave of guilt so heavy it almost drowned me. He raised his hand slowly, almost as if to tell me it was okay, but I couldn't believe him. I couldn't accept that this could be okay.

"Calm down. I'm fine. Please don't cry."

His voice was faint, barely above a whisper. I stared at him, trying to make sense of the words. I wanted to believe him, but everything inside me screamed that he wasn't fine. He couldn't be. Not when I had caused this. Not when I had seen him crumple to the ground, like a ragdoll.

"You're alive... You're okay... I'm taking you to the hospital." My voice cracked, thick with emotion, as I tried to reassure him-and myself-that everything would be alright. But deep down, I knew that this wouldn't just go away.

"No, no hospital. I'll rest at home... it'll pass," he murmured, trying to sit up, but I couldn't let him.

I shook my head furiously. "No, Amer! When I saw you lying there lifeless, I was so scared. I can't take you home like this."

The fear was clawing at me, irrational, but overwhelming. The thought of letting him go, to sit in his house, alone, after what I had done-it felt wrong. I couldn't just walk away from this. The guilt was suffocating.

I could see it in his eyes, though-he didn't want to be a burden. He didn't want me to worry. But I couldn't help it. I was terrified. I had hurt him. I had nearly taken him from this world, and I couldn't just act like it didn't matter.

Helping him to his feet, I felt every step we took together. Every time I looked at him, his face was pale, and his movements were slow, weak. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest, and I tried to hide how much I was struggling to keep it together. My fear was spilling out, but I couldn't let him see it. Not now.

Each time I glanced at the car, my stomach turned. The shattered windshield haunted me, reminding me of how quickly things had gone wrong. How reckless I had been. The guilt was unbearable, but I knew there was no turning back. I had to get him to the hospital, no matter what.

I finally managed to start the car, my hands still trembling. The day was fading into night, and with the darkness closing in, I found myself wanting to break the silence, to fill the void with something, anything, to distract from what had just happened.

"If you had just come to the library today, none of this would've happened. What were you even doing out here?" My voice was harsh, more accusing than I meant it to be. But I was so lost in my own turmoil, I didn't know how else to voice what I was feeling.

Amer didn't answer, and I hated how silent he was, how closed off he seemed. He was pulling away, and I couldn't help but feel rejected. He should've been angry with me, yelling at me, instead of lying there, still too weak to even react. He had every right to hate me.

But all I could think of was how I might never forgive myself. When we reached the hospital, I pulled over, my hands still shaking, and immediately called for help. I could barely keep still as the nurses wheeled him away. Each second felt like an eternity, the weight of what I had done pressing down harder with every breath. I kept pacing, my mind spiraling with guilt, wondering if I had caused more damage than I realized. His body-so limp, so still-haunted me. My stomach twisted in knots, and I couldn't stop my hands from trembling. I needed answers, needed to know he was okay, but I couldn't get them fast enough.

When Dr. Grey finally came out, his serious expression didn't help calm my nerves. I bombarded him with questions, my voice desperate, almost pleading. I couldn't stop myself.

"I just... I need to know if he's going to be okay," I stammered. "Please, tell me he's okay."

Dr. Grey's calm tone didn't reassure me. "He's stable, but we need to keep him overnight for observation."

Relief flooded through me, but it was short-lived. I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. I still hadn't faced the full consequences of what I'd done.

When I finally saw Amer in his room, preparing to leave against medical advice, my heart stopped. "Where are you going? You can't leave like this."

He was too weak to argue, but his voice was sharp. "There's no point staying here, Nena."

"But Amer-" My voice cracked. I couldn't let him go. Not after everything that had happened.

"I said I'm leaving," he repeated, his tone firm. I wanted to argue, to push, but I saw the determination in his eyes. He didn't want me here, and that hurt more than anything else.

"Fine," I whispered, my voice small. "But at least let me drive you home."

Reluctantly, he agreed, and we left. The car ride was uncomfortable, heavy with the tension between us. As we drove, the silence between us felt suffocating. My hands gripped the wheel so tightly, I thought my fingers might cramp. Every glance at Amer, pale and broken beside me, made my stomach twist with regret. What had I done? I had wanted to punish him, to get some sort of satisfaction, but this was never what I intended. His injuries, the helplessness in his eyes-it was all too much for me to bear. But for breaking the silence I was asking questions.

Amer's voice broke through my questions . "Why are you asking me all these questions? If you're going to keep talking the whole way, just stop the car, and I'll walk."

I flinched, my heart sinking. "Okay, I'll stop," I murmured, swallowing the lump in my throat.

I couldn't even be angry at him for snapping. Not now. Not after everything. I had hurt him, physically, emotionally. What right did I have to expect anything else from him?

The house seemed to loom ahead of us, isolated in the dark. The eerie quiet of the surroundings only added to the growing unease in my chest. As I parked the car, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had made the wrong choice coming here, but what else could I do? Leave him alone in his state? I glanced over at him again-he looked so detached, so cold, and it hurt even more.

"You live here?" I asked, trying to make conversation, though I already knew the answer.

"Yes," Amer replied tersely, and I could feel the finality in his words.

"Alone? Here? Don't you have family-parents, siblings?" The words escaped before I could stop them, my concern spilling out despite myself.

"I live alone, Nena," he snapped, and I swallowed the hurt in his voice.

"Do you always treat people this rudely?" I asked, regretting the moment the words left my mouth. But I couldn't stop myself, not with the weight of everything hanging in the air.

"What do you want me to do? Thank you for hitting me with your car?" he shot back, his voice rough.

The sting of his words hit me harder than I cared to admit. "No! Look, I'm truly sorry. Please forgive me; it was an accident," I choked out, my voice trembling. I was desperate for him to understand, desperate for him to know I never meant for this to happen.

"Stop crying," he muttered, as if the sight of my tears somehow made it worse. "It's late. Go home. Your family will worry."

"But in your condition-" I began, but he cut me off.

"Go, Nena. I can take care of myself."

His words hung in the air as I sat there, the guilt nearly suffocating me. He didn't want me here, and yet I couldn't bring myself to leave. I wanted to do more, help him more, but he didn't want me near him. Reluctantly, I drove away, feeling more lost than I had ever felt before.

By the time I got home, it was dark, and the reality of what had happened hit me with a wave of exhaustion and panic. My mother wasn't home, and the house felt strangely empty. I knocked on the door, but no answer came. Using my key, I let myself inside, only to find it dark and silent.

I rushed to my room, heart pounding, but my mind refused to let me rest. I had to face what I had done. The accident, Amer's bloodied body-those images wouldn't leave me.

The phone buzzed in my pocket, and I quickly answered, hoping it was a distraction, but the sound of Samuel's voice only added to the pressure building in my chest. He asked questions, offering solutions, but nothing felt like it would make this better. What would I say tomorrow? How could I face anyone knowing I had hurt someone so badly?

I lay in bed, pretending to sleep, but my mind wouldn't let me. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Amer's face, pale and hurt. I couldn't stop thinking about what I had done, and the guilt pressed down harder. I didn't know how to fix this, but I knew one thing for sure: I couldn't just let him go. I had to know if he was okay.