Page 25 of Hunter

The arms don’t loosen. If anything, they hold me tighter. The voice—low and soothing—continues, but I can’t make out the words. They’re drowned beneath the roar of my fear, the echoes of my screams.

I claw harder, desperate to free myself, desperate to breathe.

And then, I stop.

The fight drains out of me all at once, leaving me limp and hollow. What’s the point? What’s the use?

The despair is suffocating, dark and inescapable.

It would be easier to end it. All this pain, all this fear—it could be over.

The thought slips in, cold and seductive, and I can’t fight it. What’s the point of living like this? Maybe they’ll do it for me. Maybe that’s where they’re taking me.

I almost hope they will.

The thought settles like a stone in my chest, pulling me under.

The sensation of ice-cold water crashing against my face drags me back from the suffocating abyss. I gasp, choking on my sobs, my lungs struggling to function as the dark grip of the memory begins to fade.

“Sophia, please,” Maxim’s voice pierces through the fog, raw and broken. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe for me.”

His hands rub slow, deliberate circles on my back, the warmth of his touch battling the icy numbness that has taken over. His desperation is tangible, cutting through the darkness suffocating me.

I try, dragging air into my lungs, but the breaths come short and shallow. Every inhale feels like swallowing shards of glass. My chest burns, the weight pressing down on me relentlessly. Tears stream down my face, hot and endless.

“You’re doing so good,” Maxim murmurs, his voice tight but steady. “That’s it. In and out. Just like that.”

Bit by bit, his words anchor me. My breaths start to even out, though they’re still shaky, and the tightness in my chest begins to release. The pounding in my ears fades, replaced by the sound of the water splashing around me and the steady rhythm of Maxim’s voice.

The haze clears enough for reality to set in.

I’m not there anymore. I escaped.

The realization hits like a jolt. My body shudders as my sobs lessen, though my limbs remain heavy, as if they belong to someone else. Opening my eyes, I blink through the blur of tears and take in my surroundings.

I’m in the bathtub, fully clothed, freezing water pouring over me. My teeth chatter and the cold gnaws at my skin, but I can’t bring myself to care.

All I want is for this moment to end.

Placing trembling hands on the rim of the tub, I try to push myself up. Every movement feels like trudging through quicksand. But before I can stand, Maxim growls low in his throat.

“No.” His voice is soft but firm as his hands find my shoulders, gently pushing me back down.

The instinct to fight surges within me, clawing its way to the surface. My pulse spikes as my body stiffens, poised to resist. But the exhaustion—bone-deep and merciless—overpowers the fight.

My shoulders sag, surrendering, and I sink back into the water, my head resting on a towel he folded for me. My eyes flutter shut as I succumb to the numbing cold, letting it dull everything I can’t face right now.

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours before Maxim speaks again, his voice hesitant. “How are you feeling?”

The question lingers in the air, and for a moment, I don’t respond. How am I feeling?

This morning, I’d woken up hopeful—a fragile, tentative feeling I hadn’t dared embrace in months. But now? Now, my body feels like it’s betraying me, every muscle aching, every step a sharp reminder of how far I still have to go. My leg throbs faintly, a dull, persistent ache, and the tightness in my chest feels like a weight I can’t shake.

I feel like I’m being dragged backward—one step forward, ten brutal steps back. The physical discomfort mirrors the emotional toll, leaving me wondering if I’ll ever really move on or if this is just who I am now: stuck, hurting, and barely holding on.

“Fine,” I finally whisper, the lie, tasting bitter on my tongue.

Maxim’s sharp eyes search mine, and I brace for him to call me out, to tell me I’m full of shit.

---