ATLANTION - LAYLA BOOK1

Part 1 Layla

He pressed his lips against hers, and she felt the life being sucked out of her. She tried to pull away, but he held her tightly. Her lips went numb under his sensual but terrible touch, and she knew what was coming next.

He kissed her eyes and pushed her into the abyss.

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Think of the warmth of sunshine on your skin, the sound of rain tapping on your window, or the taste of your favorite food. These simple pleasures remind us of the beauty in life. And the memories we create through them are the building blocks of our personality, shaping us like clay into who we are. Cherish those moments, hold onto them tight, because they make life worth living.

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Layla breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of the hospital room. The antiseptic smell mixed with the faint aroma of the flowers on the windowsill, creating an odd combination that made her nose wrinkle. She closed her eyes and imagined the fresh, earthy scent of the forest, the dampness of the soil, and the sweet fragrance of wildflowers.

As she opened her eyes, Layla noticed the play of light and shadow on the walls. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the room was now bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. The golden light danced on the walls, casting intricate patterns that seemed to beckon her to follow.

Layla listened carefully, straining to hear the whispers of the forest. The rustling of leaves, the chirping of crickets, and the distant hoot of an owl filled her ears.

Layla couldn't shake the feeling of tension that permeated the air, making her uneasy and jittery. It was as if the very atmosphere around her had come alive with an unsettling energy.

 As she traced her fingers over the intricate tattoo that crawled over her snowy skin, she felt the rough, textured surface of the inked patch, which contrasted sharply with the smoothness of her skin. The symbol seemed to pulsate with an enigmatic energy, emanating a faint, tingling sensation that crept up Layla's arm, as if it was trying to convey a message to her.

  Could it be linked to the secrets buried deep within my mind? Layla wondered, a sigh escaping like a gentle breeze through the corridors of her thoughts.

Standing up, Layla walked to the door and hovered her hand over the doorknob. Leaving her room without permission was forbidden, but the forest beckoned to her, and she couldn't resist its pull

As she opened the door, a gust of wind blew in, carrying with it the scents and sounds of the outside world. Layla closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, letting the cool breeze wash over her. Stepping forward, her foot sank into something soft and squishy.

Layla opened her eyes, and the sight that greeted her made her gasp. The floor was covered in a thick layer of black, sticky mud. She looked up and saw that the walls were now covered in twisted, gnarled branches that seemed to be closing in on her.

Panic exploded inside Layla's entire body, her ears turning into war drums. Running back inside the empty hospital room seemed like the best choice if only her leaden feet would move and air would fill her lungs, now compressed under the heavy pressure that caged her cowardly body. But then a figure appeared at the end of the corridor - a woman with long, flowing hair and eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness.

"Who are you?" Layla asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The woman smiled, revealing a row of sharp teeth. "I am the forest," she said. "And I have been waiting for you."

Layla jumped away and shut the door, her heart racing. "There was no one behind that door. There is nobody behind that door," repeated Layla frantically, almost shouting. Her pale hand trembled on the doorknob. 

"It was just my imagination. Just my imagination," she repeated over and over, her body sliding against the cold door, her mind and eyes racing around the room trying to find a piece of furniture to drag against it. But, in the end, she would not go to such extreme lengths. 

"Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out," thought Layla while taking huge gulps of air that rushed too fast and painfully inside her chest, expanding her rib cage compressed by panic.

"DUDUM, Dudum, dudum, dudum," her thunderous heart gradually softened to a delicate murmur inside her ears. Cold sweat, born of panic, traced a chilling path from her forehead, blurring the line between tears. Beads of salty moisture dripped onto her crumpled cotton dress. Leaning chin on knees, the overwhelming scent of cheap floral detergent enveloped her senses, an emotional symphony entwined with fear. In this intimate cocoon, Layla found solace.

 The doctors had told her that nightmares and hallucinations might be a cause of her trauma and that she would get better soon enough.

But fear held her back-the fear of the monsters that lurked in the darkness, the fear of the incident that had brought her to the hospital. The other women had given her the surname "Darkwoods" after they found her unconscious in the cursed park. Layla disliked the name because it reminded her of the incident and the doctors' constant references to it.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts,  Ursula, the nurse that was taking care of her , entered the room, carrying a tray of food. "How are you feeling today, Layla?" she asked, placing the tray on the table.

Layla looked up and forced a smile. "I'm okay, thanks."

Ursula raised an eyebrow. "Just okay?"

Layla sighed. "I don't know. I'm just tired of being cooped up in here. I want to feel the sun on my face and the wind in my hair."

Ursula nodded understandingly. "I know. It's hard being stuck in here, but you need to give yourself time to heal. The doctors will let you go when they think you're ready."

Layla nodded, but inside, she felt a surge of frustration. She didn't want to be confined to a hospital room anymore. She wanted to be free, to explore the world outside, to find out who she really was.

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Layla was skeptical when it came to ghost stories. But there was something about the haunted hospital air that made her wonder if there was any truth to the rumors. As she wandered the old hospital compound, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone, or something, was watching her every move.

The piano melody that had plagued her the night before still echoed in her mind, a constant reminder of the eerie atmosphere that surrounded her. She had searched the grounds all day, desperate to find the source of the sound, but it seemed to come from every direction at once.

Ursula, one of the nurses at the hospital, had claimed to have heard it periodically as well, adding to Layla's unease. Others whispered of a ghostly woman who played a broken instrument in the attic, but Layla dismissed the idea as absurd. She suspected that the gardener's boy was behind the eerie music, playing a prank on the residents to scare them.

But as the melody started again, slower this time, Layla couldn't deny the creeping sense of dread that came over her. She tried to focus on something, anything, to distract her from the haunting sound, but her thoughts slipped away like water through her fingers.

In the end, sleep was her only escape. She buried her head in a cold pillow, grateful for the relief it brought her pounding temples and surrendered to the oblivion that awaited her.