There is a narrow curvy path up ahead, right in front of my eyes.

It detaches from the main road and slides silently into the cold ground, where the stiff winter trees rest without any movement. Silently enough that one would barely even notice it when walking by, but I did. I would always notice that particular path, even if there was fog everywhere, even if it was dark, even if I was blind.

I look down and see that my bare feet touch nothing but snow, but it doesn’t bother me at all as I walk towards that path, pushing all my body weight into the task of getting me to move. My legs seem as if they’re frozen, but I know it is not from cold that I refrain.

There is something far darker, far obscurer into the woods towards that particular way that not only bring violent shivers down my spine, but also almost keep me from moving further. Almost, as I can’t find it in myself to make my own body obey my commands, and end up moving even though I do not want to get any closer. Not to the trees, not to the path, definitely not to the river.

I cannot see any rivers, but there is something about the utter silence around me that whispers “water” into my ears. There are no birds or insects, instead I can feel the moisture at my fingertips, making my throat hurt with every breath I take within because of the snow and because I am afraid.

I am afraid. I am utterly and terrifyingly afraid.

My heart is beating as if it is not my own, and as I involuntarily approach my destiny, right there, down that little hill, under the shades of the gianormous dark greenish trees, my feet dragging on the ground against my will as I try to move away, my entire body going numb from cold and dread and pain, I pray that I can one day be forgiven, although I do not know what it is that I need to be forgiven for.

There is this feeling, if I could describe it like so. Something, like a light or a warmth, something cold and small, slowly moving in between the trees up ahead. It is almost invisible, but I can somehow see or feel it, and it hurts. It hurts my eyes and my chest, as it fills me with indescribable sadness and loneliness. I’m now not only afraid, but somewhat irrevocably alone. My heart is heavy now.

I close my eyes in despair as everything goes darker and darker around me and I can hear the river, its water running, gushing downstream like wild horses running freely against the wind. It is fierce and powerful, but not to me. Not right now, as I’m about to go through something horrifying, something dreadful, something I could never really convey in words and that I do not know what could possibly be.

My breath becomes shallow as I suddenly regret every choice I’ve ever made in my entire life. My palms are sweating, my mouth is dry, my whole body shakes violently as the distance between me and hell gets smaller and smaller.

Is this how it feels to die? I wonder. Not only die, but die in a gruesome, lonesome way, with nothing around but frozen dead nature and the strength of the river’s flow?

“Oh God, please”, I plead in silence, as no words can come out of my mouth now, nor they ever could, “I am so sorry. Please, forgive me”.

My eyes suddenly go wide open and I sorely gasp for air. My bed sheets are covered in sweat and I can hear my heart beat in my eardrums. My pillow is wet, I realise, and so is my own face. I’ve been crying.

A lot, apparently.

I sit straight up for a couple of minutes and look at the clock on my bedside table. 2h25. I can hear some cars on the street and some teens leaving the bar at the corner across the street from my apartment.

I get up, feeling my entire body stiff and sore. Drink a glass of water like it is the last I’ll ever see in my life, take a shower, change the bed sheet, walk around a little, but nothing can erase those images from my mind. If I close my eyes, it is as if I’m still there, trapped inside that nightmare, condemned to reliving it over and over again. And so, I decide to stay awake until dawn.

Under the bed, a couple of frozen leaves rest untouched and unseen.