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I return to the bed and coax her awake just enough to swallow it. “Come on, stick your tongue out.”

She grimaces but complies. “Teacher voice,” she mutters.

“Mireya.”

She hums, already drifting again as I sit down close to her then. A moment later, something moves at the foot of the bed.

A cat, who stretches luxuriously, arching its back, tail flicking. It yawns, glaring at me, before hopping onto the mattress, and padding over to her side.

It circles once, then curls up against her ribs. She exhales, deeper this time. I watch the rise and fall of her chest, count the breaths and wait for them to even out.

“Do you remember anything?” I ask as my fingers move to her face.

Her lashes flutter and her eyes open just enough to find me, then she shakes her head. “No,” she whispers. Her lower lip trembles, tears gather, spilling soundlessly down her temples and into her hair. “I never remember,” she says.

I sit down fully this time next to her, the mattress dipping under my weight.

“It’s okay,” I say carefully. “It means your mind protects you.”

She lets out a small, broken sound that might be a laugh if it wasn’t so fragile. “It never protects me,” she murmurs.

“You’re here,” I say. “You’re safe. Right now.”

She looks at me like she’s checking if that’s true. “Promise?” she asks.

“Yes.”

Her eyes slid shut again, exhaustion pulling her under. Then I shift, preparing to stand. Her hand shoots out, catching my wrist. Just enough to stop me.

“No,” she says, eyes still closed. “Don’t go.” I freeze and look back at her. “He’ll come here,” she adds quietly. “He’s always here.”

My pulse kicks hard against my ribs. “Who?”

Her grip tightens just a fraction. “I don’t know,” she whispers. “But he waits. And you leave.”

I sit back down and say, “I’m not leaving.”

Her fingers loosen immediately, like that was all she needed. Her hand slips from my wrist and falls back to the blanket. The cat presses closer to her side, tail flicking once before going still.

“I told you, women are never safe, Damien,” she says, already half asleep.

I remain seated, staring at the spot where her hand was, replaying her words in my head.

He’s always here.

I don’t know who she meant. I don’t know what she remembers when she wakes.

But I know that whatever found her tonight hasn’t finished. And I will not be the one who leaves her alone with it.

43

Mireya

Past

Play - Dagger by Slowdive

Close your eyes