I felt like I had just woken up from a deep sleep when the bleak air slapped my face. A few strands of my ponytail came loose, slapping against my cheeks or getting caught on branches and plants as I ran past.

Each time it happened, I winced in pain or annoyance, but it wouldn't deter me from my goal. The forest, usually a sanctuary of calm and a place where I could spend hours, now felt like a nightmare.

The sun was not fully up to lighten the atmosphere, and the misty chill carried by the wind only heightened the sense of dread. The silence that settled over the forest was eerie, devoid of the usual bird calls and rustling leaves. Instead of feeling serene, it felt oppressive, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

The path ahead was dimly lit, shadows dancing menacingly as the early morning light struggled to pierce through the thick canopy. My breath came in ragged gasps, the cold air stinging my lungs with each inhale. I could feel my leg muscles cramping from the overexertion, but I pushed through the pain, determined not to stop.

The ground was uneven, roots and rocks jutting out unpredictably, making every step a calculated risk. I stumbled occasionally, my worn-out sneakers slipping on the damp earth, but I managed to catch myself each time. The smell of damp foliage and rich, decaying wood filled my nostrils, a stark contrast to the clean, vanilla scent of my bedroom.

I kept my eyes focused ahead, ignoring the ominous rustles and the occasional snapping twig that made my heart race even faster. The fog that settled on the forest floor obscured my view, creating an eerie, disorienting haze that made it impossible to see clearly in front of or behind me. The mist swirled around me, thick and impenetrable, adding to the sense of unease. I couldn't tell which direction I had come from, nor could I discern where I was heading.

A sudden, draining realization washed over me:'I'm running in circles.'

Despite this unsettling thought, I continued jogging, driven by a mixture of anxiety and a desperate will to survive. I could feel hysteria bubbling up inside me, threatening to break through, but I summoned all my strength to keep it at bay. I couldn't afford to get distracted. I furrowed my brows, trying to focus.

'Distract me from what?'I wondered briefly, but I didn't allow the question to take hold. There was no time for doubt or introspection. My eyes scanned the dense underbrush, searching for any sign of asphalt that might signal the edge of the forest or a nearby opening that would lead me to safety. I desperately hoped to find someone—anyone.

'People! The more people, the less likely I'd die,'I thought, the words echoing in my mind and making me want to cry. The thought spurred me on, transforming my slow jog into a sprint that Coach Clapp would be proud of.

I could hear an eerie laugh echoing through the forest, its taunting sound amplified by the stillness. The sinister cackle sent chills down my spine, and I couldn't stop a few tears of helplessness from escaping my eyes.

A knotted, churning feeling began to make itself known in my gut, the anxiety and fear I had been trying so hard to suppress now crawling out insistently. Goosebumps popped up on my skin, as if settling in to watch my breakdown unfold.

Desperately, I tried to take in as much air as possible, hoping to calm my racing thoughts and pounding heart. But deep down, I knew it was only a matter of time before whatever was pursuing me caught up. The danger was near, and by the sound of it, frighteningly close. I continued to push myself, feeling my heart pound against my ribs as if trying to escape its demented cage.

Sweat poured down my temples, loose strands of hair sticking to my forehead and neck. The light jacket and thermal top I had chosen for the day now felt suffocating, trapping heat against my skin. I regretted my clothing choice but didn't dare stop to take the jacket off.

My breath came in ragged gasps, each inhalation a struggle against the overwhelming sense of dread. The forest seemed to close in around me, the trees looming like silent sentinels. It was a labyrinth, each turn and twist leading me deeper into its heart.

I clung to the hope that I would find a way out, that I would stumble upon a road or a clearing that would lead me to safety. The thought of civilization, of people who could help, was the only thing keeping me going. It was the beacon of light in the darkness, the promise of safety in a world that had suddenly become a place of unseen dangers and overwhelming fear.

As I ran, I couldn't shake the feeling that eyes were watching me, hidden in the shadows. Every rustle of the underbrush, every snap of a twig, sent a jolt of terror through me. But I couldn't afford to look back. I had to keep moving, had to find my way out of this nightmare. The fight for survival was the only thing that mattered now. I couldn't remember when I had woken up or changed from my sleepwear into light hiking attire, but a glance at my watch told me I had to hold on until 7 AM, two hours from now.

"My watch?" I murmured, realizing that the silver gleam on my wrist was not mine. The most expensive thing I owned was the pair of pearl earrings Angela and I received for our quinceañera.

I collided with a tree, my left shoulder slamming into the rough bark, and I crashed to the hard ground, my knees hitting first. I barely managed to use my hands to avoid smashing my face, but the impact was still jarring.

I groaned loudly, momentarily indifferent to the animal pursuing me. The pain from hitting the tree was excruciating, especially given my low pain tolerance. I examined my hands, assessing the damage. My wrist felt sore, and the scratches on my palms stung sharply, but nothing seemed broken—not even the unfamiliar watch.

Upon closer inspection, I confirmed it didn't belong to me or anyone I knew. I rubbed my dirty hands on my leggings, trying not to irritate the scratches further. Now that I wasn't sprinting like a maniac, I felt the weight of the pack on my back. I huffed and carefully removed it, mindful of my injured shoulder.

The pink windbreaker I wore clung to me, drenched in sweat, suffocating and uncomfortable. I quickly yet gently peeled it off, letting it drop to the ground. The forest was eerily silent, the usual sounds of nature absent. The mist hung heavy in the air, swirling around me like ghostly fingers. The dense foliage and towering trees created a claustrophobic atmosphere, making it hard to see more than a few feet ahead.

My breath came in ragged gasps, visible in the cold air, and my heart pounded against my ribs, a relentless reminder of my panic. I glanced around, trying to get my bearings, but everything looked the same. The oppressive fog obscured any landmarks, leaving me disoriented.

I strained my ears for any sound that might give me a clue about where I was or what was after me, but there was nothing—only the deafening silence. Despite the fear gnawing at my insides, I knew I had to keep moving. Staying still would only make me an easier target. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. I had to get my bearings straight. I knelt near a random stump, trying to camouflage myself with my surroundings.

Any doubts I had before were eliminated from my mind. Everything I touched with my hands felt familiar and mine, but I had no recollection of these items. An overwhelming sense of déjà vu washed over me when I took off the pale pink windbreaker; the one I had no memory of, and which I was fully aware had not been hanging in the closet Angela and I shared.

It was as if I had seen these items before, but I couldn't think of anything to give me this sense. I pressed my hand to my heart, feeling my pulse slam against my chest with each beat. I still hadn't caught my breath. I groaned, coughing as I rummaged through the pack for anything that might be of use.'

Nothing here,'I confirmed.

I could kick myself for creating such a horror-like scenario. My dreams usually consisted of traveling and eating, maybe a hot make-out session with Alex Landi or Michael B. Jordan. Hey, sometimes it was both. I massaged my shoulder as I got up from my position.

'No need to mope over something that is already happening,'I thought.

I could hear the distant sound of running water and the closer sound of a branch snapping high in a tree. It was too close for comfort. I looked up, causing my already-accelerated heart to skip a beat painfully. I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. I wanted to shrug it off as a bird or the wind snapping the branches, but my body and gut told me otherwise.

'Proceed with caution.'The thought didn't belong to me, making me tense every muscle I could.

The silence of the forest, usually so calming, now felt oppressive and sinister. The absence of the usual forest sounds—no chirping birds, no rustling leaves—amplified my sense of isolation and fear. I leaned against the tree. The rough bark dug into my back, but I welcomed the sensation—it was real, solid, a stark contrast to the nightmarish quality of everything else. After my heart finally ceased its wild drumming against my ribs, I settled on the notion that tracing the gentle murmur of running water would offer the most promising path to survival.

"Proceed with caution," I whispered to myself, deciding to follow the sound of the water that could guide me toward the reservation. I did my best to avoid stepping on twigs that might give away my position to anything dangerous lurking around. Mentally, I cheered once I spotted the running water.

'Rub mud all over,'I blinked, eyeing the wet mud the stream of water caressed here and there as it ran.'Mask your scent.' I didn't understand where these thoughts came from, and as much as I wanted to question them, I didn't have the luxury.

I knelt by the stream, grabbing as much water as possible to splash on my face, hoping it would calm me down. I smiled to myself, feeling the cool water soothe my heated skin. I went to grab more until my eyes took in my reflection. My usual straight black hair was different. Everything was different. The reflection in the stream wasn't me but a woman close to my mom's age. Her tan skin was sun-kissed with freckles speckled more on one side of her face and neck. Her eyes were a dark onyx color, beautifully framed with thick eyelashes. Her hair was light brown, frizzed in its ponytail, with natural curls bouncing and tangling from running around. I lifted my hand to my face and realized I was the other woman. My calmed demeanor turned to shock as my—her—eyes widened.

This had to be a dream. It had to be a dream. I kept observing my—her—reflection, trying to pinpoint if I had ever seen this woman before. I closed my eyes briefly, breathing through my nose as the churning feeling in my gut began to settle. I did my best to keep my eyes on the reflection below. The revelation of everything happening made me too tired to react.

The forest around me felt both alien and familiar, every rustle of leaves and distant animal sound amplified in my heightened state. The realization of my transformed appearance weighed heavily on me, adding another layer of surrealism to the unfolding nightmare.

The woman in the reflection, with her strong features and composed expression, seemed like someone who had endured much more than I had. I tried to piece together who she might be or why I was inhabiting her form, but the answers eluded me. I splashed more water on my face, hoping to wake up from this bizarre dream. The cold liquid felt incredibly real, grounding me in the moment. The woman's hands, my hands, were calloused and strong, a stark contrast to my usual soft, unblemished skin.

"There you are." Before I could turn around entirely to see who had spoken, I was already lifted into the air as something hard and cold clutched my throat. My focus remained on the reflection in the stream, and although I couldn't see the person behind me, I caught a perfect view of their fiery red hair and flawless, pale skin.

"You've no idea how much fun it was," she said. By the sound of her voice, I knew she was female. It was soothing yet seductive, the kind of voice men would fall for.

"Chasing you. The chase is always the best part." This time, she whispered close to my ear, sending shivers of fear and overwhelming pain through my spine.

The feeling in my gut intensified as I placed my hands over hers in a desperate attempt to loosen her grip. It was a futile effort. Her grip only tightened, and I could feel the air being forced out of my throat, slowly crushed by her inhuman strength. Tears streamed down my face as the pain became excruciating. Although I tried to breathe through my nose, I knew I wouldn't last long.

"Pl-Please," I croaked, my voice barely a whisper. I couldn't see behind me, which only heightened my fear and made me feel nauseous.

"They always say the same thing," an annoyed male voice interrupted. His voice was thick with an accent I couldn't quite place. A second male voice joined in, adding to my terror.

"Stop playing around and eat. We need to place her with her friends." Images of lifeless bodies, stripped of blood or mauled by some animal, flashed through my mind.

"Please," I cried, losing control. I felt myself slowly detaching from what was happening, as my body acted on its own accord. The strength of the woman's hand around my neck increased, and the pressure on my throat became unbearable.

The red-headed woman didn't hesitate this time, yanking my throat in her grasp. It happened too fast for my human eyes to process. One moment I was upright, and the next, my knees slammed into the ground. Pain was a distant sensation, overshadowed by the overwhelming need to hold my neck together.

'Pressure means cutting circulation, which prevents blood loss,'my mind raced with survival instincts. I could barely register the excruciating pain as my hands tried to stem the flow of blood gushing from my neck. The metallic scent of copper overwhelmed my senses. My eyes, wide with terror, locked onto the stream's reflection.

The image showed my hands, slick with an unhealthy amount of blood, desperately gripping my throat. The red liquid seeped through my fingers, and I realized the severity of my situation—there was too much blood. I couldn't breathe, my airway blocked by the thick, warm fluid flooding my lungs. Screaming was impossible; all I could do was drown in my own blood. In the reflection, the face of the woman with wild red curls came into focus.

She looked petite and fragile, entirely out of place in the forest with her attire more suited for a shopping trip than hiking. Her flawless appearance contrasted starkly with the brutality she had just inflicted. I watched in horrified fascination as she licked her fingers, savoring my blood. My stomach churned with nausea, but I couldn't react. Paralysis from shock and blood loss took over as I heard a distant, impatient male voice.

"Hurry up, Victoria." Those were the last words I heard before my body gave out. Blood spewed onto the ground, and the numbness in my fingers spread like wildfire throughout my body. My vision darkened, and consciousness slipped away.

I woke with a start, my heart pounding furiously in my chest. "Mom?! MOM!" I screamed, scrambling out of my bed, covers flying in all directions.

The sense of suffocation was still with me, a phantom pain where her sharp claws had torn my throat open. I clutched my neck, feeling for any remnants of the vicious attack, but there was nothing—no blood, no wounds. Just the lingering terror of a nightmare too real to dismiss. The blood. Just thinking about it made me dizzy and lightheaded.

'I'm going to puke,'I thought, unable to shake the gruesome image from my mind. It replayed over and over, mocking me.

"Mom!" I pleaded, screaming in desperation to make it stop. My hand instinctively went to my throat, applying pressure as if to stem the imaginary flow of blood. I heard my parents burst into the room.

"Angela?" Mom cried, glancing at my sister, who slept closest to the door. Angela was sitting up, her hair a wild mess, eyes wide with concern and confusion from my abrupt screams and cries. She was alright—tired and worried but physically fine. Angela scrambled out of bed, her focus solely on me. Mom's attention shifted to me as well.

"Eleanor!" she shouted, rushing to my side. She saw my pale face and the hand gripping my throat. Dad stood at the door, fumbling with the lamp switch, trying to illuminate the room to check for any real danger. Angela helped him, staying close for comfort and safety.

Mom didn't hesitate before ripping my covers away, trying to get closer to me. She grabbed my hand and gently pulled it away from my throat, careful not to disturb any potential wound. Relief flooded her face when she saw no cuts. She examined my throat and checked every inch and crevice of my body for injuries. Once she was sure I wasn't physically harmed, she pulled me into her arms.

"You're okay," she murmured, her voice a mix of relief and anger—not at me but at the thought of anyone harming us. "It was just a dream." She kissed my temples and head repeatedly, trying to calm me down. However much I wanted to believe her, I couldn't.

I shook my head. "No," I insisted over and over. "Not a dream." My voice was thick with emotion as I recalled everything: the watch, the pink windbreaker, and the beautiful redhead who had ripped my throat open by the stream. The reflection that should have been mine was of someone else—a woman around Mom's age, who now lay dead in the forest.

No matter how detailed I was about everything, Mom didn't believe me. She kept murmuring reassurances that it was just a dream. I gave Dad a pleading look, hoping to convince him, but he was too busy trying to lull Angela back to sleep. I felt helpless; they weren't going to believe me.

"I'm gonna throw up," I managed to choke out, feeling bile rise in my throat. I reacted faster than Dad, who turned to look for the trash bin. I found it before he could grab it, sitting near the combined desks across the room's entrance.

Vomiting from a nightmare was a new chapter I didn't wish to write about—ever. I had never experienced something like this before, and no matter how vivid and real it felt, Mom was adamant it was just a dream.

'A dream,'I kept repeating as I dry-heaved a few more times.

Dad knelt beside me, ensuring my hair stayed out of the bin while keeping a comforting hand on my back. I gave him a half-hearted smile. I felt shaky and sick, and from the shared looks my parents exchanged, I knew they saw it too.

"Come on, mija. I think you should take a shower." Mom quickly grabbed a different set of pajamas from the bottom drawer of my bed. Dad helped me up, escorting me out of the room. I knew I could make it to the bathroom by myself, but having Dad's comforting hand on my back encouraged me to move my shaky legs. It was a gift in disguise.

I showered once Dad felt I was okay and Mom had the water running. The comforting white tiles and walls were now painfully striking compared to what I had just gone through, stinging my eyes every now and then. I lathered myself with the soothing smell of eucalyptus soap Angela constantly used to help her sleep. I stood there for a few more seconds, letting the water wash away everything I had felt and experienced a few moments ago.

"It was just a dream," I repeated, hoping the mantra would ease my mind and stick in my brain.

I would never admit to being afraid after my nightmare, but at that moment, with no one there to witness, I didn't want to see my reflection. I could feel the lingering chills of fear in my core, dreading that I would find the woman who had died in my dreams staring back at me instead of my reflection.

"It was just a dream," I repeated once again.

Drying myself with the towel, I left the water running to wash away the leftover suds from my generous use of soap and to keep the steam covering the mirrors. Knowing I couldn't see my reflection helped ease my discomfort.

My tense shoulders sagged as I began to relax. I changed into the new set of pajamas—yellow floral top and matching shorts. They were definitely Angie's, but I sighed and knew better than to complain. It's not like anyone was going to see me in them.

I brushed my teeth and tongue to eliminate the lingering taste of bile. I wanted to forget everything that had happened, including my screaming. I shook my head, trying to escape the thoughts of replaying anything close to what I had dreamt.

"It was just a dream," I kept repeating.

'The more I say it, the more likely this will all pass,'I promised myself.

After brushing through my hair, I felt cleaner and refreshed. I sighed in relief, about to turn off the water when I heard Mom's loud whispering. She was never great at whispering or being secretive. I walked closer to the bathroom entrance and heard her conversation with someone on the phone, whom I assumed was Tia Julia.

"I'm telling you, Julia. It happened again. No, no. It wasn't Angela this time. It was Ellie." I heard her pause, listening to what Tia Julia was saying. I furrowed my eyebrows, straining to eavesdrop. I could slap myself for being so nosy, but the idea of Mom calling Tia Julia this late over my'just a dream'fiasco didn't sit well with me, especially since Mom didn't like talking about anything that could be negatively used against us.

"Te lo prometo, Julia. I wouldn't be calling you if I wasn't worried." I imagined Mom biting her thumbnail—a nervous tick she had. Her voice became harder to hear as she probably walked away.

'Angela?'I thought, dragging myself back to the shower to turn it off before Dad complained about how much water I was wasting. However, after what I had just gone through, I knew he wouldn't mention it or care as much.

My thoughts continued to circle around the idea of Angela.'Did Angela also have nightmares?'I wondered. I had never noticed her having any, let alone waking up screaming. Unless she had, and I had been too self-absorbed to notice, a pang of guilt slithered down my spine. I stopped, my hand hovering over the doorknob. No, it couldn't be. Angela always shared her problems with me, no matter what. We never kept secrets from each other.

I felt too emotional to think rationally about the possibility of Angela suffering from nightmares like mine. "You're done?" Mom's voice interrupted my thoughts, pleasantly surprised. I turned to see her tired face, feeling another pang of guilt for having been so selfish, screaming for her without considering how she or Dad would react.

I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat, fighting the urge to cry again. If I did, Mom or Dad would stay up all night to ensure I was okay before they went to bed or work. I nodded, allowing Mom to take me back to bed and tuck me in. She laid over the covers, her arms around me as she traced a floral design on my back. Angela and I used to beg her to make the same designs when she put us to bed. It was a ritual that always comforted us to sleep.

"Everything's going to be alright, mija," she whispered, her warm embrace and the familiar patterns she traced on my back lulling me back to sleep. I could only pray that I wouldn't dream of the vicious redhead or the dead woman again.

The following day was a nuisance. All I wanted to do was forget about last night's incident, but Isaac's constant questions and Angela's sympathetic glances didn't ease the lingering fear I desperately tried to shake off. Making things worse, Dad and Mom insisted I stay home and rest, leaving me with goosebumps at the thought of being alone. The image of the woman in the forest, caught and killed, flashed quickly in my mind, warning me of the danger of isolation. She was alone, and no one was there to witness her last moments. No one.

I pinched my arm to remind myself, "It was just a dream." I kept the mantra up, constantly reminding myself that it was a dream and nothing more. Angela decided to drive today, promising not to fumble with the keys this time. I gave her a small smile, not caring if she accidentally set off the alarm.

"Do yo—" She paused, contemplating whether she should ask. I was already prepared for the questions that would come as we left the comfort of home. "Do you want to talk about it?" She finally mustered enough courage to ask, shifting the gear to park before removing the keys from the ignition.

Did I want to talk about it? I pondered for a few seconds, but the chilling truth was I couldn't. I knew I'd be a mess, and at the moment, I was too emotionally drained. I decided to ignore her question, focusing on something else. Mom's conversation echoed in my head, reminding me that Angela might also be going through this. If she was, bringing it up might trigger unwanted memories.

I sighed, shrugging my shoulders before looking at our shared reflection in the rearview mirror. "It was just a dream." I sounded robotic this time, as if I'd been repeating the same thing over and over again—which I had, but I wasn't going to let anyone know.

Angela's face showed she didn't believe it but wouldn't press for more than I was willing to share. I gave her a grateful smile in return before grabbing my backpack and stepping out of the car.

The crisp morning air enveloped me, a stark reminder of the events that unfolded the previous night. However, I focused my attention on Bella's Chevy, parked a few lanes closer to us. I needed a distraction from Angela's concerned glances, a diversion from the haunting memories lingering in my mind.

Thankfully, Bella often sought solace in her'reading,'a thinly veiled excuse she had offered on several occasions. I couldn't help but snort at the feeble pretext she had presented just a few mornings ago. Bella glanced up from the pages of her book as I approached, her brown eyes framed by thick lashes that seemed to accentuate her curiosity.

"Morning," I greeted, leaning casually against her truck. She offered a faint smile in return, her gaze assessing me with a hint of concern.

"Everything okay?" she inquired, her voice laced with genuine concern.

I shrugged, my reply subdued, "Rough night," I murmured, the words falling short of conveying the true turmoil I felt."Rough night"was an understatement; the echoes of my recent ordeal still reverberated within me.

Bella nodded in understanding, closing her book and stowing it away in her backpack. "I can relate," she admitted wearily, surprising me with her willingness to open up.

It was uncharacteristic of her, but it stirred a sense of pride within me. Perhaps Bella trusted me more than her other acquaintances, the so-called'friends'who merely orbited around Angela, using our association as a means of inclusion.

"I keep having these strange dreams," she murmured, her gaze flickering to the few cars entering the lot behind her, likely keeping watch for the Cullens. Letting out a defeated sigh, she turned her attention back to me, slinging her backpack over her shoulders.

"Strange dreams?" I echoed, intrigued by her admission. I wanted to probe further, to inquire if her dreams mirrored mine in any way, though I knew the chances were slim.

As I opened my mouth to delve deeper, my attention was drawn to the immaculate silver Volvo behind her. The conversation with Bella momentarily forgotten, I watched as Edward navigated the car into the lot, accompanied by his sibling Rosalie, who appeared to be engaged in an animated discussion. They awaited the movement of one of the vans before parking in their usual spot.

'So they do argue.'I thought, finding solace in the normalcy of their familial dynamics.

The Cullens always seemed too perfect, almost surreal in their flawlessness. Rosalie's evident distress sent a shiver down my spine, reminiscent of the unease I had felt the previous night.

'If looks could kill, Edward would be dead,'I thought to myself, noting Edward's acknowledging nod in my direction before the car drove off. With their parking settled, I steered Bella's attention towards the silver Volvo now stationed in its spot.

"Looks like Edward's back at school," I observed as Edward and his family exited the vehicle and made their way into the school building, Rosalie's demeanor appearing more relaxed as one of her brothers draped an arm over her shoulder. Bella blushed, her eyes briefly meeting Edward's before returning to me, attempting to maintain an air of nonchalance.

"Hopefully, you'll get an explanation for his behavior before he left," I reminded her. Bella's flustered expression shifted to one of determination and resolve.

She nodded resolutely, "I know exactly what I'm going to say," she affirmed, her confidence unwavering. I offered her a reassuring pat on the shoulder before we parted ways, heading to our respective classes.

"Don't let nerves get the best of you," I advised, watching as she gave me a shy smile and waved goodbye, promising to keep me updated. If I had any sense of self-preservation, I would have steered clear of anything involving the Cullens. But as the saying goes, be careful what you wish for.

Hello, I just wanted to write this small but also important notice about my writing so far. I know I haven't mentioned many Spanish words .. but as I continue on I shall be using more Spanish as well as Latin, but rest assured I will be writing down their meaning down below to help everyone out. I also wish to add, please feel free to correct me in regards to mistranslating something or foregetting a word or two.

I would also like to apologize, I had no idea that some chapters were missing as well as noticed once I've uploaded a chapter or posted a document for new chapters that many pieces of my writing went missing or just were wrong - I'll be sure to double check everything from now. However, if I do recommend rereading the story just incase you haven't read certain chapters. I do write/edit chapters at night after work which can lead to mistakes. Overall, I wish to thank you for your support and patience. It means alot!
- PureThrexd

𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐘𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀

𝘮𝘪𝘫𝘢:𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳
𝘛𝘦 𝘭𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘰:𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶