The scream caught in a throat at 3:00 am

Dear Delyara, I can still smell the smoke from that winter if I close my eyes too tightly. It’s an acidic, chemical scent that triggers an immediate, icy panic in the pit of my stomach. Tonight, the radiator in my bedroom gave a sudden, loud metallic hiss, and before my conscious mind could even process the noise, I was on my knees by the side of the bed, my heart fracturing against my ribs, suffocating on memories that are over a decade old. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn't even unlock my phone to check the time. People look at me during the day and see a confident, articulate professional who has everything under control, but they don't see the frightened, scarred child who still lives just beneath my skin, permanently listening for the sound of the world breaking apart again. The past isn't behind me, Delyara; it’s just waiting for the room to get dark enough to strike.