Jaiga

Jaiga endured the same torment every night: nightmares so vivid they felt like cruel reality. Each time he drifted off, his mind thrust him into the darkest recesses of his fears—poisonous spiders crawling across his skin, walls pressing in so tightly he could hardly breathe, wandering through empty streets at midnight with the prickling sensation of being watched, and plummeting from a plane, the wind screaming in his ears as the jagged mountains rushed up to meet him. He never woke until the last possible moment, terror gripping his chest. Nothing brought relief. He tried therapy, confided in friends, swallowed pills meant to quiet his thoughts, but nothing worked. The nightmares always returned, dragging him from sleep in a cold sweat, heart pounding, shadows lingering in the corners of his room long after he woke. The exhaustion seeped into every part of his life. His grades slipped as he nodded off at school, missing lessons, failing tests, and falling further behind with every passing day. He was too tired to study or even keep up with what was happening in class. At home, his parents’ disappointment weighed on him, their frustration growing with each new report card. The pressure was suffocating, and Jaiga wondered how much longer he could hold on. Tonight was no different. He found himself running through that same deserted street, the only light coming from flickering street lamps, moths fluttering in the glow. The darkness seemed to laugh at him as he raced onward, pursued by shadows that whispered his name. He turned into an alley and stopped—there was nowhere left to run. As he sank to his knees, the shadows loomed larger, monstrous shapes giggling manically, their voices echoing in his mind like a twisted lullaby.