“Have mercy! Please—let me out! Let me out of here!”
Leah’s voice echoed in the darkness as she pounded desperately on the coffin enclosing her.

“Help me! Someone, please!” she screamed, her fists slamming against the wooden lid until pain shot through her hands.

It was pitch-black inside. The air was stifling, heavy, and her breath came in short gasps. Panic clawed at her chest. Couldn’t anyone hear her?

Her throat burned. Her body trembled. This wasn’t a dream. She was buried—alive.

Then came a sudden jolt, making her body shift. The coffin tilted. She realized—they were lowering her into the ground.

A moment later, dull thuds filled her ears.
Dirt.

They were burying her.

They’re burying me alive.

“No! Please, don’t do this! What have I done to deserve this?” she cried, her voice cracking, raw from screaming. “Please… for heaven’s sake!”

She clawed at the wooden lid, nails splintering until blood slicked her fingertips. Her air was running out. Her vision blurred. Her strength faded—but she couldn’t stop.

Why?
Why are they doing this to me?

I was a good person… a good wife… I never wronged them.

The weight of betrayal pressed harder on her chest than the earth above ever could.

Is this really how I die? What did I do wrong?

Silence answered.

Her lungs screamed for air. Her chest burned. Her limbs turned heavy as stone. Her tears were the last things that escaped before the darkness swallowed her whole.

Sharlene gasped and shot upright in bed, drenched in sweat. Her heart pounded in her chest as she clutched it, gasping for breath.

It was that dream again.

She pressed her palms against her temples, trying to steady her breathing. Her head throbbed; her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

Leah.
That was the only name she ever remembered.

But she didn’t know anyone named Leah. Not in real life.

The clock on her bedside table glowed: 4:00 A.M.

Sharlene sighed. Sleep wouldn’t come back now. She climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Cold water splashed across her face, but when she looked up—she saw a flash in the mirror.

A crying woman’s face. Pale. Tear-streaked.

Sharlene blinked it away, whispering to her reflection, “Don’t get involved… mind your own business.”

But the dreams never stopped. Night after night, they came.

She turned from the mirror and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for her daughter. Her husband, as usual, wasn’t home. Busy with work, she told herself, as always.

Her life was quiet. Simple. Predictable. She worked as a high school teacher at a private university. She cooked, cleaned, cared for her daughter—and repeated the same routine every day.

It was enough.
Or at least, she made herself believe it was.

By five o’clock, she gently nudged her daughter awake.

“Ash, time to get up.”

Her five-year-old stirred and smiled sleepily. “Good morning, Mom.”

“Good morning, sweetheart. Let’s shower so we can go to school early, okay?”

Ashley nodded, and together they got ready, laughter briefly breaking the dawn’s stillness.

Afterward, Sharlene served breakfast and packed their lunchboxes.

“Mom,” Ashley said between bites, “when will Dad come home?”

Sharlene froze for a moment. She couldn’t lie—but she didn’t want her child to worry.

“I’m not sure, baby. He’s just busy with work. But he’ll come home when he can.”

Ashley looked down, then gave her mother a small, brave smile.

When breakfast was done, they stepped outside and waited for a jeepney. The morning air was cool, the city still half-asleep.

By the time they reached the school gates, students were already trickling in. Sharlene dropped Ashley off at daycare, then went to the faculty room.

She set her bag on her desk, ready to start the day—when her phone rang.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end was low, trembling.
“Grandma’s dead.”

Sharlene froze. “What…?”

“We don’t know how it happened,” the voice said.

Her mind went blank. The phone slipped slightly in her hand.

For a long moment, she couldn’t move—just sat there, staring into nothing.

Her quiet world had just shifted.