The truck hummed gently beneath us, the tires eating away the miles of the empty, cold road ahead. I leaned closer to the window, watching nothing but blackness outside. The darkness somehow matched how I felt inside, everything felt unknown, like walking into a fog and not knowing where it ends.
I didn’t even realize when my eyes finally closed. Maybe it was the cold breeze. Maybe it was the silence. Maybe it was just the weight of everything that finally pulled me into sleep.
But that sleep didn’t stay peaceful.
—
The world around me shifted. I was no longer in the truck. I was standing in the middle of a bright hallway. I could hear someone laughing. A child’s laugh. My laugh?
I turned my head, and there I was.
A little version of me, probably around five years old, skipping with her school bag swinging from her back. She had those same dark brown curls like I always used to have. She was humming, spinning in her pink dress like she didn’t have a care in the world.
"Allison!" a voice shouted.
My dad.
He looked younger, much younger. No wrinkles, no tired eyes. He had that goofy smile that used to make me laugh. He ran up and picked up little me in his arms, spinning her like they were the only two people alive in the world.
"You’re always late from school now," he teased, kissing her forehead.
Little me laughed, hugging his neck. "I was just playing with the other kids."
"Well, your mom's gonna scold me if we don’t get home before dinner. Let’s go, sweetheart."
"Dad," I whispered, even though no one could hear me.
The scene melted like watercolors under rain.
A new one took its place.
A dark room. Papers. A table with documents. My dad was older now. He looked serious. Nervous. Angry, even.
"If anything happens to me," he said to someone I couldn’t see clearly, "you have to find Allison. She doesn’t remember yet, but the memory is in there."
The man didn’t speak. But the shape of his face… the posture…
It was Drew.
My heart started racing in the dream. My breath catching.
"But she’s just a kid," Drew’s voice finally echoed through. "She’s not ready to carry this."
"She doesn’t have to carry anything. Just protect her until the right time. It’ll come…"
Suddenly I heard shouting. Loud bangs. Like doors breaking. Screams. Panic.
My dad turned, grabbing something from the table—a small locket. He held it tight in his palm.
"Take it," he whispered. "She’ll need it to remember."
The vision blurred.
Everything burned in white light.
I screamed.
—
I shot up in the truck, gasping. My body was sweating, my breath rapid like I had been running for hours. The truck was still moving. Drew didn’t turn to me, but I could see him looking at me through the corner of his eye.
"You remembered something," he said. Calm. Like he already knew.
I nodded slowly, my voice trembling. "I saw… him. My dad. He gave you the locket."
Drew didn’t answer for a while. Just kept driving.
"Do you remember what was on the table?" he finally asked.
I blinked, trying to focus. "Papers. Documents… some files. I couldn’t read what it said. Everything was so fast."
"That’s enough for now," he said. "You’re starting to remember. That’s the important part."
I looked down at the locket still in my hand, my fingers wrapped around it so tightly it left marks on my skin.
"This thing… it’s more than just a memory, isn’t it?"
He nodded. "It’s a key."
I opened my mouth to ask what kind of key when a loud THUMP echoed under the truck. The car jerked hard to the right.
"Sh*t," Drew muttered, pulling the wheel and slowing down quickly.
We stopped on the side of the road. I blinked fast, trying to keep up with everything.
"What happened?"
"Tire’s flat. Something sharp hit it. Must’ve been from earlier. Hold on."
He stepped out of the truck, grabbing a flashlight from under the seat. I followed him outside, the cold air hitting my face like a slap.
Drew checked the tire and sighed. "Yup. Completely dead."
"Can you fix it?" I asked, rubbing my arms.
"Yeah, there’s a spare, but it’ll take a while. Stay inside. It’s freezing out here."
"No, I’ll stay."
He raised an eyebrow. "Since when are you this stubborn?"
"Since I started remembering," I said, hugging myself.
He smirked. "Fair enough."
While he worked on the tire, I sat on a rock nearby, the night wind brushing through the silence between us.
"Drew?"
"Yeah?"
"Back then… when my dad asked you to protect me. Did you agree right away?"
He didn’t answer immediately. His hands kept working, but I could see his jaw tightening.
"No," he said simply.
I blinked. "No?"
"I didn’t think I was the right person. I wasn’t ready either."
"But you did it anyway."
He nodded. "Because your dad trusted me more than I ever trusted myself. I owed him everything."
My chest ached. I wanted to cry. But the tears didn’t fall. I just stared at him, fixing a tire for a journey we didn’t even fully understand yet.
He was quiet again for a few minutes. Then he added, "And now… I’m not doing this because I owe him. I’m doing this because I care. About you."
My heart dropped a little. A silence stretched again.
I stood up slowly, walking closer. "I never got to say thank you."
He looked up at me. "You don’t have to. Just keep trusting me, okay? Even when it gets harder. Even when it gets darker."
I nodded. "Okay."
He finished tightening the last bolt and stood, brushing his hands on his jeans. "Let’s go. We’re not far now."
We got back into the truck.
But I felt different now.
He was right. It was getting darker. But I wasn’t as scared anymore.
Because someone was finally beside me.