Unbind me

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Seraphina Sterling
"my life was never about living, it was always about surviving"

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

I don't remember falling asleep.

One moment, I was staring at the wall, eyes dry and heavy, and the next, I'm jolting upright, heart racing and breath clawing at my throat. My skin is cold and damp, my shirt sticking to my back. My fingers tremble against the sheets, and for a second, I can't even tell where I am.

The room is dark, shadows swallowing the corners. The faint hum of distant voices filters through the walls — muted and muffled, like they're happening underwater. The air feels stale. Cold.

I drag in a shaky breath, forcing myself to focus. I'm still here. Still in this room. Still safe... or at least as safe as I can be in a place like this.

But my heart won't slow down. The echoes of my nightmare still cling to me, flashing through my mind in scattered fragments — fire curling up walls, faces twisted in fear, a voice screaming my name from somewhere far away.

I rub my hands over my face, trying to wipe away the memories. My skin is freezing. My fingers are tingling — my powers, still unstable, still threatening to break loose.

The room feels... wrong.

The air is thicker than before, like it's pressing down on me. The metal tray from earlier is on the floor now, knocked off the table — I don't even remember that happening. The glass of water I left untouched is tipped over, a puddle spreading across the ground.

Did I do that?

I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my fists into my temples. I can't lose control here. Not now. Not when I don't even know where Juliette and Adam are.

I push back the covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed, needing to move — to breathe — to do something. My shoes scuff against the floor as I stand, and I press my hand to the wall to steady myself.

The cool surface pulses beneath my palm — a faint, vibrating hum — and I jerk my hand back like I've been burned.

No, no, no.

I can't do this. I can't lose control again.

I force myself to step back, drawing in a sharp breath. The air tastes metallic on my tongue. My heart pounds against my ribs.

I stare at the door like I'm willing it to open. I need Kenji to come back. I need someone to tell me what's happening, what I'm supposed to do —

But no one comes.

I'm still alone.

The door creaks open, and I whip my head toward it, my pulse still hammering in my ears. For a second, I think I'm still dreaming — still stuck in whatever twisted nightmare my mind has been playing on repeat — but then I see Kenji, standing in the doorway.

He steps inside, followed closely by the blonde man from earlier — the one who kept asking me questions. My muscles tense on instinct.

"Hey," Kenji says, his voice softer than usual. His eyes scan my face like he's expecting me to shatter at any second.

I don't say anything. I can't. My throat feels tight, my mind still spiraling.

"This is Winston," Kenji says, gesturing to the man beside him. "I know he was... intense earlier, but I promise he's cool. He's a friend."