Page 49 of Say You're Mine

I will get better. I will claw my way back to sanity, back to being the man Cara fell in love with. And then, God help anyone who tries to keep us apart.

The days that follow blur together, a haze of pain and confusion. My body heals, slowly but surely, the bruises fading from livid purple to sickly yellow. But my mind... that's another story entirely.

Every night, I'm back in Faulkner's lab, strapped to that godforsaken chair as he peels away layers of my sanity. I wake screaming, drenched in sweat, the taste of blood and terror thick on my tongue.

Judith is always there, her voice a lifeline in the darkness. "You're safe," she murmurs, over and over. "It's not real, June. You're safe."

But am I? The lines between reality and nightmare blur, leaving me adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Some days, I'm not sure if I ever really escaped. If this isn't just another of Faulkner's cruel illusions.

"What's real?" I ask Judith one day, my voice raw from screaming myself awake. "How do I know what to believe?"

She takes my hand, her grip firm and grounding. "Start with what you know, June. What you feel in your bones to be true."

I close my eyes, searching for that unshakable core of certainty. "Cara," I whisper. "I love Cara. And our baby."

"Good," Judith nods encouragingly. "Hold onto that. Let it be your anchor."

But even as I cling to that truth, doubts gnaw at the edges of my mind. What if Cara doesn't want me anymore? What if I'm too broken, too damaged to be the husband and father they deserve?

Judith becomes my lifeline, a constant presence as I battle my demons. She's there to talk me down when the panic attacks hit, to remind me of who I am when the memories threaten to drown me.

"Tell me about her," I beg one night, as we sit on the balcony of the safe house, watching the stars come out. "About Cara. Is she... is she happy?"

Judith's eyes soften with sympathy. "She misses you, June. Every day. But she's strong. She's fighting for you, for your family."

I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "And the baby?"

A smile tugs at Judith's lips. "Growing like a weed, according to the doctors. Cara swears it's going to be a boy, with your stubborn streak."

The thought brings a wave of longing so intense it steals my breath. I should be there. I should be feeling our child kick, watching Cara's belly grow round with the life we created together.

"Soon," Judith promises, squeezing my hand. "You're getting stronger every day. We'll get you back to them soon."

But 'soon' feels like an eternity. Every day that passes is another day lost, another precious moment I can never get back. The frustration builds, a pressure cooker of rage and desperation threatening to explode.

It comes to a head during a particularly brutal therapy session. We're working through another memory, trying to separate truth from Faulkner's lies, when something inside me snaps.

"Enough!" I roar, surging to my feet and sending papers flying. "I'm done with this bullshit. I need to see her. I need to see Cara!"

Judith stands, her hands raised in a placating gesture. "June, we've talked about this. You're not ready-"

"Not ready?" I laugh, harsh and bitter. "I'm her husband. The father of her child. How can I not be ready?"

"Because you're still unstable," she says gently. "The outbursts, the nightmares – they're getting better, but they're still happening. We can't risk-"

"Risk what?" I snarl, advancing on her. "Scaring her? Hurting her? I would never-"

But even as the words leave my mouth, a memory flashes through my mind. Cara's face, twisted in fear and pain as my hands close around her throat. It's not real, I know it's not real, but the image is so vivid, so visceral, that I stagger back, bile rising in my throat.

"June?" Judith's voice seems to come from far away. "June, focus on my voice. You're safe. It's not real."

I blink, the room coming back into focus. I'm on my knees, my entire body shaking. Shame washes over me in a sickening wave.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, unable to meet her eyes. "I'm so sorry. You're right. I'm not... I'm not ready."

Judith kneels beside me, her hand on my shoulder. "It's okay, June. This is part of the process. You're making progress, even if it doesn't feel like it."

I nod, too drained to argue. But as she helps me back to my room, a new resolve settles over me.

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