Climbing up the mountain path has never been more exhausting.

Raindrops dripped on my tousled hair and down my aching back, chilling to the bones. This trip was worth it, I'd continue to tell myself. It was worth the cold, the tiredness, the pain. It was worth it, for the image that's been haunting me for what had seemed like an eternity. Blurring, familiar, always there watching and waiting. Never close enough to touch, never far enough to be easily ignored.

A branch almost hit my face. I evaded just in time, instead slipping on the wet soil and landing on the pebbled road. Curses left my mouth between deep breaths, as I tried to stand up and continue walking towards my usual resting place. It wasn't easy, mud already covered my long boots and pants, causing shivers in both disgust and cold.

Finally, I reached the large, old oak tree, and slowly slumped down near its sturdy trunk. The rain continued to fall in heavy, stinging drops, but I just put my hood on as my gaze covered the surroundings. Desolate hills, nothing much to look that. Nevertheless, in the haze of my mind, memories buried deep in the untouched threads of time appeared one by one.

Two girls, smiling and dancing happily in the flower field.

Chanting promises to be friends forever.

Hugging for one last time.

Through slow blinks, my sight cleared and focused again on the world in front of me.

The flowers were now withered and left behind barren soil. Of course, autumn was different from summer. Autumn was cold, unforgiving, almost to the point of being lifeless. Summer was warm, loving, smelling of youth and innocence. Summer offered a pretty dream, while autumn became the harsh reality.

Soaked to the skin, I leaned on the trunk slowly, tired eyes closing for just a moment. A moment was enough. Drumming sounds of cries echoed and circled around. My throat constricted. I tried to breathe, feeling the lack of oxygen, but only raspy coughs came out. Scratching the ground around just seemed to prolong the agony, until the hands were buried deep within the wet ground. With my head down, I attempted to breathe again. Slowly. Assuredly. Hot drops of water fell down the cheeks, now probably reddened with anguish. The burning pain was still there, just subsided. The familiar earth was soothing to the touch, almost embracing the previous trembling hands.

"How long are you going to haunt me?"

There was no answer, but the wind seemed to turn harsher, wiping the branches in a macabre dance. This would normally scare someone. However, after years of being enveloped by madness, I became the madness itself. Unperturbed towards ghastly scenery. Prone to fits of nervousness. A veritable living ghost.

Sighing, I searched through the pocket of my trench coat. Out came a woolen doll, missing lumps of hair and one arm. Childish to a stranger, precious to me. To us. But especially to her.

An impulse hit me, and the doll was suddenly being torn apart. Ripping it meant getting rid of the memories. I could feel salvation was near. Maybe the haunting would end. I would become a  normal girl, entangle in society, make great friends and reach a ripe, old age. The dream was so sweet, like a strawberry topping on a vanilla ice cream. Unfortunately, just like the usually deceiving ice cream, it melted before I could fully consume it to my heart's desire.

The white feathers fell down in the dirt, revealing a block of wood, no bigger than a simple twig. The curiosity was too much, so I decided to take a look. At a proximity, nothing important could be discerned. Uninterested, I almost threw it away, but a sudden lighting bolt showed small black lettering. 

Jakie from Ports.

My other hand grasped a lantern, the flickering light nearly caressing the engraved surface. Uneven cuts on the wood, as if done in a hurry. Nothing else mentioned. Not who Jakie was, where Ports was, or if either even existed. Usually, one would just put it up to mere coincidence and leave it alone. 

But that someone would be probably still in their right mind, laughing happily at home. Not making a rash journey through a powerful storm, risking being hit by a thunderbolt or falling trees. Initially, this was supposed to be a short respite from the haunting nightmares of the past. However, it became the start of another nightmare. Too close for comfort and too deep to find a definite end.

Clenching the newly found object in one hand and the lantern in another, I tried to find the way back home. The rain didn't bother me anymore, neither did the cold. Vaguely, I could feel blood dripping down my knees. Probably wounds from falling too hard. But, more so than that, I could feel the blood pumping in my veins. Burning the insides. Screaming for revenge. 

At that moment, it was clear. 

There was no turning back from madness, not until it devoured me whole and left nothing behind.