My eyes burned from reading half in the dark, my temples throbbed under the weight of everything I’d absorbed. I gathered my things silently, stacked the maps in my bag, and took the first book I’d opened this morning — the one that had revealed everything. The leather of its cover was rough under my fingers, almost alive. It smelled of fire, moss, and something even older.

I headed toward the librarian, who was still sitting, upright, as if she had never taken her eyes off me.

“May I… borrow this book?” I asked in a hoarse voice.

She nodded slowly.

“Yes. Just write your name and today’s date in the register. You have one week to return it.”

Her voice was soft, but her gaze… it was as if she knew.

I thanked her, signed silently, then politely said goodbye. I finally left the library, and the cool late-afternoon wind struck my face like a light slap. The sky was tinged with pale orange and mauve, and the shadows lengthened on the cobblestones of the small town.

I headed back toward the university.

My thoughts swirled like dead leaves in a storm. Every line read, every word spoken in my head seemed to clash with my memories. The sacred places, the days of magic, the spirits, Samhain, my birth, the forest…

And then, without warning, a thought slipped into my mind like a silent snake.

What if… people were right?

I stopped dead, frozen in the middle of the dirt path, the trees gently swaying around me.

What if I wasn’t human?

What if I really was cursed?

What if I were Evil incarnate, like they had always whispered?

What if… everything that happened was truly my fault?

My heart skipped a beat.

The voices…

They came back.

The whispers, the screams, the looks.

“She brings bad luck.”

“Everyone dies around her.”

“You should never have been born.”

“Monster.”

“Witch.”

My hands trembled, my breath caught sharply.

Everything blurred around me.

I was suffocating.

My chest tightened like in a vice.

I felt like the ground was slipping beneath my feet.

My head was buzzing, sounds muffled.

Black spots danced before my eyes.

I put a hand on a tree trunk, but my legs no longer responded.

My bag slid down at my feet.

I heard Luna meow desperately, clawing at my leg with her little claws, trying to bring me back to the present.

But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t breathe.

Everything spun.

Everything hurt.

And suddenly, the void.

My body gave in.

My mind disconnected.

And I fainted, alone, among the trees, at the edge of my own shadows.

I woke up in soft light, filtered through drawn curtains. A calm, almost suffocating silence wrapped the room. The air smelled clean, mixed with fresh sheets and a hint of antiseptic.

I was in the infirmary.

I didn’t move. My body felt heavy, numb with shame and fatigue.

On my stomach, Luna slept curled up, peaceful, her small reassuring warmth against me. Her slow breathing echoed mine, more ragged. She had clung to me till the end. Even when I couldn’t hold on.

I slowly passed an arm over my face, to hide the tears silently streaming down. I didn’t have the strength to hold them back, nor to explain them.

I stayed like that for a few minutes, eyes closed, breathing as best I could, my arm still across my face.

Then, gently, I slid my hand toward Luna and stroked her back. She purred faintly, as if she understood, as if she forgave.

A subtle smell reached me then… a mix of hot soup, warm bread.

I turned my head slowly.

A tray rested on the bedside table. A still-steaming plate, some bread, a bit of fruit.

I sat up with effort. Every movement felt harder than usual, as if my body carried the full weight of my memories.

I took the spoon.

I forced myself to eat.

But the memories wouldn’t let go.

Each bite pulled me further back.

The words. The faces. The screams. The tears.

The feeling of being a stranger everywhere.

Of being a living mistake.

Of carrying within me a truth no one wanted to hear, a pain no one wanted to see.

I kept eating. And I cried silently, tears falling into the soup.

But I ate.

I had barely finished the last bite when the door opened gently. A soft creak, almost shy.

I jumped despite myself. I quickly put on my glasses.

A woman entered, wearing a white coat. Her hair was graying at the temples, and her brown eyes were calm, patient, as if they had seen everything. The nurse.

She closed the door behind her quietly, then approached without a word. Luna lifted her head briefly, wary, before snuggling closer against me.

“You’re awake,” she said simply, in a soft, steady voice. “How do you feel?”

I shrugged vaguely. I didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t expecting an answer.

“You fainted in the street,” she continued. “A student saw you fall. You were pale as a sheet, and breathing too fast. He panicked and carried you here. You were hyperventilating, you know?”

I stared at my hands, clenched on my lap. Gloved. Always.

“It’s nothing serious,” she went on, sitting beside the bed. “Your body just said stop. Sometimes you have to listen.”

A silence settled. Not heavy. Rather… enveloping.

Then she added:

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

I shook my head slowly. She nodded, as if she expected that.

“Alright. But know that I’m here. If you want, anytime. Even if it’s just to come drink some tea.”

She stood up, but before leaving, she took a small tin box from her pocket. She put it on the table.

“Mint and lemon balm candies. They soothe the heart sometimes.”

She gave me a smile that didn’t try to force openness, but stayed there, available.

Then she left the room as silently as she had come.

I stayed there, my gaze lost on the little tin box, Luna purring softly against me.

I still didn’t know if I was falling apart… or beginning to piece myself back together.