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𝔼𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕚𝕝𝕒 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕣
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The room was still and silent, the kind of quiet that should've been comforting. It wasn't. I couldn't sleep. Not because I didn't want to. God, I wanted to. I wanted to sink into oblivion, to shut my eyes and let the darkness take me somewhere safe. Somewhere quiet. But my body wouldn't let me. My mind refused to let go.

Kai's arms were wrapped around me, his hands resting against the bare skin under the shirt I wore—his shirt. He wasn't using the pillows; instead, his head lay against my chest, his breath steady and even, a soothing rhythm that would've lulled me to sleep if my thoughts weren't so loud. My fingers absently played with his hair, the soft strands slipping through them in a repetitive motion. My other hand rested against his bare back, holding him to me.

I stared at the ceiling, unblinking, as the shadows of the night blurred and twisted above me. My body was still—so still it could've been mistaken for peace—but inside, I was anything but calm. I couldn't stop thinking.

I couldn't stop thinking about them.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force the images away. I willed myself to focus on Kai, to wrap myself around him and let his warmth pull me into sleep. I tried. I really did. But every time I closed my eyes, they were there, waiting. Mocking me. Taunting me.

All I could think about was how much I wanted to hurt them.

No. Not just hurt them. That wasn't enough. I wanted to destroy them. I wanted to make them feel every ounce of pain they'd forced me to endure, until death felt like mercy compared to what I'd do to them.

I could still feel their hands on me. The way they'd grabbed me, restrained me, like I was nothing more than prey to them. My body tensed, my jaw clenching as the memories clawed their way back to the surface.

I thought about the night they came for me. I'd been in my room, safe—or so I thought. Until I wasn't. I didn't even have time to scream before they were there. A hand over my mouth. The prick of a needle in my neck. The terror of knowing someone had been waiting for me, hiding in the shadows, just to drag me away.

I remembered waking up in that hellhole. The cold metal beneath me. The sharp sting of restraints digging into my wrists. The panic that suffocated me as I realized I couldn't move. And then, the pain.

God, the pain.

They cut me. Opened my skin like I was a specimen on a table, and they didn't bother to numb the pain. No, they wanted me awake. They wanted me to feel it. My screams filled the room, raw and desperate, but they didn't care.

"Noisy," one of them had said, their voice dripping with irritation. "So annoying."

I remembered how they gagged me after that, shoving something into my mouth to muffle my screams as they continued their work. The memory made me sick, my stomach twisting as if I could still taste the cloth they'd shoved between my teeth.