Chapter 101 Insomnia
The flames tore through The Russell Villa, eating up everything in sight. The air was thick with nasty smoke and the stench of burning.
Emma was stuck in the blaze, her face a mix of despair and agony. Her voice was barely a whisper. "George! Save me! I'm here!"
Her cries were gut-wrenching, cutting through the smoke and fire. But George was blocked by this invisible barrier, like some kind of see-through cage, keeping him away from Emma.
"Emma! Emma!" George yelled, rushing forward. No matter how hard he tried, the barrier wouldn't budge. He watched, helpless, as Emma struggled in the flames, her pain and despair ripping his heart apart.
"George! Help!" Emma's voice got weaker, and the flames seemed to swallow her whole. She looked at George, her eyes full of despair.
No matter what George did, the barrier stayed solid.
Then, Emma was consumed by the fire, her desperate cries turning into haunting screams. George's heart shattered, tears streaming down his face.
"Emma! Don't leave me!" he cried out, but all he got back was the endless flames and smoke. Emma's figure slowly vanished in the fire, leaving behind nothing but endless pain and despair.
"I can't lose you."
The flames turned everything to ashes. Suddenly, George woke up, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding.
He sat up, the darkness around him feeling suffocating, Emma's cries still echoing in his mind. It had been three years. Every quiet night, this nightmare haunted him, making it impossible to escape.
"Why couldn't I save you?" he muttered to himself.
Emma's pained face lingered in his mind.
Even though he knew that when The Russell Villa caught fire, Emma was already gone, he kept dreaming of this scene over and over again.
And he knew this dream would be a wound that would never heal.
When he finally got back to The Russell Villa that day, the whole place was in ruins, and the Emma he loved so much had already turned to ashes in the fire.
After that, he bought another house next to the villa, identical in layout.
He redecorated it just like before, even restoring Emma's bedroom. But while he could replace objects, Emma was gone forever. Without her, the villa had lost its warmth.
Every night, George stayed in the room he had recreated for Emma, thinking about her, but these thoughts kept him awake night after night.
George smiled faintly, mocking himself for hoping Emma would come back.
No matter how much he tossed and turned, he couldn't fall asleep.
George gave up on sleeping, went downstairs to the living room, and poured himself a glass of vodka, downing it in one gulp. Maybe the alcohol would help him sleep.
But he struck out again. After a while, his head was spinning, but sleep was still a no-show. Trying to force himself to sleep just gave him a pounding headache, so he ended up staring blankly at the dark TV.
George suddenly remembered his college days. He had this roommate who was obsessed with horror movies and always dragged them along to watch. One time, George was in the dorm and caught a glimpse of one.
In the movie, a vengeful ghost always crawled out of the TV. If ghosts could do that, maybe Emma, with her playful spirit, could crawl out of the TV to spook him too.
George recalled something he heard at the Russell Group a few days ago: "What's so scary about ghosts? Every ghost you fear is someone else's cherished loved one."
Thinking about it, George chuckled to himself.
Freya, who had been keeping an eye on George's health, woke up at the slightest noise. Hearing the sounds from the living room, she gently pushed open the door and walked in.
"Mr. Russell, can't sleep again?" Seeing George's exhausted and pained face, she sighed inwardly. She knew he must've been woken by another nightmare and couldn't get back to sleep.
What a tragedy. Emma, such a wonderful person, had developed a tumor and then been burned to ashes in the fire.
"I'm fine," George replied softly, not wanting to share his inner turmoil.
George's insomnia was a mental block only he could resolve. Freya didn't push further. She walked over and lit the aromatherapy candle that Scarlett had spent a fortune on for him.
The smoke from the candle slowly rose, filling the room with a faint, comforting fragrance.
"Mr. Russell, the aromatherapy might help you relax."
This aromatherapy was created by a suddenly popular perfumer named Ava in the past two years. Not only was it expensive, but it was also hard to come by. Scarlett had bought it at a premium, hoping it would help.
Tonight was Freya's first time using it for George.
As the scent filled the air, George's mood gradually calmed down.
The enchanting fragrance seemed to take him back to the time he spent with Emma. Closing his eyes, he could almost feel her presence, as if she were right beside him, comforting him gently.
"Emma," he murmured. That feeling made him feel incredibly at ease.
Freya couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.
"Mr. Russell, you need to take care of yourself, or Mrs. Russell won't be able to rest in peace," Freya said softly. She considered him like her own child, hoping George could overcome this shadow and find hope in life again.
"I will," George nodded.
Freya didn't mind his half-hearted response. As long as George was willing to talk, it was already a good sign.
She still remembered the days after the villa burned down. George had completely shut himself off, refusing to say a single word.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
