Page 198 of Seeking Shadows

The one who watches everything without blinking, calculating, assessing—no guilt, no hesitation. Just pure, methodical observation. And then there's the other side of me—the one that constantly fights to control every single thought, reining them in like wild horses. My mind doesn’t sit still.

It’s a constant buzz, distractions pulling in all directions—but I’ve learned to choke it down, to force it into something usable.

It’s not easy. I can’t stop the noise, but I can sure as hell control it. Every erratic thought, every sudden urge, gets bent, shaped into something precise, something clean.

The storm still rages, but you’ll never see it. No noise. Just cold, perfect precision.

I thought I’d never feel anything real.

Until her.

It was raining the day her dad died.

It’s weird how I remember this by heart—when most days, I have to write down the simplest shit just to keep up. Tasks. Schedules. Conversations. They slip through me like water. But that day? I remember every second. Every detail burned itself into me like my brain, for once, decided to slow down and record instead of scatter.

It was not the dramatic kind of rain—the slow, quiet kind that soaked the grass and made the pavement shimmer. The kind that smelled like wet dirt and metal. I remember that, because I was sitting on the curb, watching it bead on my shoelaces like it mattered. Like I could count the drops and make sense of the noise in my head.

Taylor was being held by my mom when I saw her. Clutching her like she was trying to keep her from falling apart. But the second our eyes met—she broke free.

Didn’t say a word.

Just came running straight to me, like gravity snapped back into place.

Her hair was plastered to her face, cheeks blotchy, eyes swollen. She didn’t say my name. She didn’t say anything. She just crashed into me like a wave and clung to me so hard I nearly lost my balance. I barely had time to process it—her fingers curled into my hoodie, nails digging in, her face buried in my neck.

I didn’t know what to do.

My brain scattered, lighting up with too many signals all at once. I knew she was crying. I knew something was wrong. But I didn’t know how to be the kid who said the right thing or held someone the right way.

I was supposed to feel awkward. Or scared. But I didn’t. I just went still.

She was the one falling apart, and still, between hiccups, she whispered, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Like she was worried I might break first.

I didn’t speak. Couldn’t. My heartbeat was loud in my ears, my thoughts louder. All I could do was wrap my arms around her and hold on, tighter than I ever had to anything in my life.

Something clicked in me.

Not like a lightning bolt. More like a switch. Quiet, internal. Sudden.

I didn’t know what it meant to care about someone—not really. But her body shaking against mine, the rain soaking through both of us, the way she clung to me like I was the only thing keeping her grounded—I felt it.

I didn’t want to move.

Didn’t want to let go.

And for the first time in my life, I think I understood what it meant to belong to someone.

She’s the only one I care about.

The only one I can’t shut out.

She’s fire. Chaos. Reckless instinct wrapped in a girl who fights harder than anyone I’ve ever met.

She’s my best friend. My weak spot.

I hate everyone—except her. Never her.

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