Page 70 of When Death Whispers

So I turn and walk down the hall. Each step feels heavier than the last. Like I’m walking through molasses. Like I’m moving further and further away from something I’ll never get back.

When the bathroom door closes behind me, I don’t turn on the shower right away.

I press my back to the door.

And finally let the tears fall.

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I don’t move right away.

The bedroom door closes behind her with a soft click, and I simply stand there… in her living room, staring at the space where she just was.

She told me to leave.

And I should.

I should take the hint. Pack my shit, walk out that door, and pretend I never stepped into her world.

But I don’t. I can’t.

I sink onto the edge of the couch instead, elbows on my knees, hands threaded behind my neck as I stare down at the hardwood floor like it might have the answers I don’t.

My heart’s still hammering, loud in my ears, like my body’s trying to catch up to a moment that’s already passed.

Fuck.

I don’t even know what just happened.

One minute I was stepping onto the porch to grab the groceries—and the next, something yanked me under like a fucking riptide.

Darkness. Cold. Desolate.

And then that forest again. Her forest. The Evergloom, I think she called it.

And she was there. Naked. Bruised. In some beast’s arms.

And me? I was helpless. Again. Just a fucking bystander in a nightmare I didn’t understand.

I didn’t see what he did to her, but I saw enough. I saw her body. I saw the scratches. I saw the bruises. I saw the cum.

I saw her panting and shaking and I assumed the worst.

And even now, even knowing she asked me to leave—beggedme to—I still want to find that monster and rip him to fucking pieces.

Not because I think Parker’s fragile.

Not because I think she’s broken or dirty or ruined.

But because I’ve never seen someone look so torn between hating themselves and needing to be touched again.

And that kills me.

It fuckingkillsme.

Because I want to be the one she comes undone with. I want to be the one who brings her back from the edge, not the reason she goes over it. I want to be someone she reaches for—not someone she pushes away because she thinks I won’t survive it.

Because the truth is—I don’t think I can survivewithouther anymore.

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