The past never truly leaves you. It lingers like the ghost if a storm--silent but destructive, waiting for the right moment to pull you under. You can run from it, bury it beneath forced smiles and distractions, but it always finds a way to seep through the cracks, whispering reminders of everything you want to forget.
It has a way if catching up. No matter how far you run, no matter how many doors you lock behind yourself, no matter how tightly you hold on to the illusion of safety...you should know it's not over.
Not yet.
And that's the most terrifying part.