Page 70 of Crushed Vow
“Stay away!” I screamed. “I’ll fight this time, I’ll fucking fight, you can’t take my mind again—”
The door opened slowly.
And then—
A familiar voice.
“Charlotte?”
No. No.
That was his voice, but he wasn’t real. It’s another trick. Another illusion.
“It’s me. Cassian. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I shook my head, hands clamped over my ears. “No, no you’re not real. He’s dead. You burned. You’re not real.”
I covered my ears. Curled tighter. Eyes shut. Rocking like I used to.
Please wake up. Please. Wake. Up.
“I’m not Hargrove,” he whispered, closer now. “You’re not there anymore. You’re safe. You’re safe.”
My eyes squeezed shut. “Go away. Please—Doctor Hargrove, I’m sorry—I won’t fight next time—just don’t—don’t come closer—”
I kept my eyes closed.
I didn’t want to see white walls again.
But then—there was a warmth. Not forceful. Just... there.
His hand. Hovering near mine.
“I came to check on you,” he whispered, his voice cracked and low. “I heard you screaming. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Still, I didn’t move.
“I’m kneeling, Charlotte. I’m not touching you. Just let me help you come back.”
Come back.
His voice trembled slightly. That was new. The mighty Cassian Moretti, uncertain. Gentle.
“Do you feel the floor beneath you? You’re not in the psych ward. You’re in your room. In your own home.”
I whimpered again, unsure, until—
His hand gently brushed the edge of mine.
It wasn’t a grip—only a gentle touch.
So real. So warm. So heartbreakingly safe.
I opened my eyes, only a sliver at first—light bleeding through the haze of fear and memory.
There he was. Kneeling. Barefoot. Shirt rumpled. Glasses skewed. Hands trembling.
“It’s Cassian,” he said again. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m right here. Just breathe with me, okay?”
