Jessica returned to her small apartment and, exhausted from staying up late the night before, went to bed early.

"No-ah-!"

No-please-

In her dream, her eyes reflected the searing glow of flames. The fire raged, painting everything red and orange.

Timothy was still inside.

She tried to call for help, using all her strength, but no sound would come out.

She struggled in the nightmare, frantic and powerless, watching Timothy run into the burning inferno.

It was so dangerous!

"No... no..."

Jessica jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead.

Even as she woke, the terror and worry from her dream clung to her.

On instinct, she reached for her throat. Just now, she could've sworn she'd made a sound!

tingled as if it had vibrated

eyes widened

a single sound

just now, in the

clutched at the blanket. Could it be possible? Had she really made a

years of silence, she could hardly believe

Was she still dreaming?

the sensation-the feeling of something rough and raw rising in her throat- was almost painfully

again, forcing an "ah"

it was: a faint vibration, the ghost of a

She stared, stunned.

actually made

after so many disappointments, she'd stopped allowing herself even the hope that one

she could

slight tremor in her throat sent a sharp, burning pain through her neck, as if

slid out of bed and poured herself a glass of warm water, drinking slowly. She tried

the cup. Her voice was hoarse, barely

trembled, and for the first time in so long, she felt a surge of happiness so fierce it nearly drowned out the

could still feel the raw sting in her voice

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