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Me? I’m not so fortunate or free. I have a ton of baggage holding me back. My terror. My anxiety. My absolute fucking fear of anything and everything.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready to talk, but you should know that you’re safe. It’s over now. I’ve got you.” The rumble of that deep voice soothes. The cadence, the slightly lyrical lilt…

Winnie is the only person I’ve been comfortable enough with to speak for a long time. The stuttering I managed to conquer as a child, reared its ugly head and dug its filthy talons in tight since I’ve been back. Who am I kidding? It’s been since I was taken.

Taken. While that word is perfectly adequate to describe what happened to me, it’s not enough. Not big enough, expansive enough… just, not enough.

It became infinitely easier to just stay silent. Keep quiet. Make myself small and disappear, but on my terms.

This, though? My terms were not taken into consideration for whatever this is. God, what is this?

A shift and a moment of weightlessness, has me jostled higher in the arms that cradle me so carefully against a solid wall of muscle. A wall of muscle that smells like sunshine and sin. It smells like rain and freshly cut grass, like the promise of summer.

And security.

Somehow, over the past days—or week, maybe—this scent has become the one I associate with being safe and cared for. Jesus, how long has it been since I’ve felt those things or anything remotely close to it?

Too long. Way too freaking long.

I sink down, immersing myself in it. Letting the calm flow over me like a balm, wrap me up, and keep the chaos at bay. I allow myself to think, to sift through what I know, so I can prepare for what comes next. Because God knows, I will never let my guard down again. I can’t. Been there, done that. And it’s a hard no thank you to the participation t-shirt for any of those past adventures.

Or this current one, if I’m totally honest.

Bits and pieces of the world outside my head manage to slip through the barriers in my mind. We didn’t go back home after burying Winnie’s parents, but once panic set in at the cemetery, a lot of what went down is just not there. It’s vanished. We sure as hell didn’t get into her car and drive away. That plan got fucked hard for the second time in our lives.

I hate that I lose time. I hate that even simple things tend to float away or get twisted into ruined snippets of memories that don’t fit together. I hate how what’s happened to me has the power to rule me.

I crack open an eye to see if anything can shake something loose in my brain, but all I see are the dark looming silhouettes of trees. The woods are too thick, too dark for us to be anywhere else but still here. Always here.

Winnie was on alert, almost panicked as we watched that figure stalk toward us in the cemetery. I felt a shift in my bones then, and as much as I trust it was for good reason, Winnie getting spun up sent me deeper into my abyss. It does that now.

I used to be the strong one, the stable one. The one who stood sentry and made sure nothing bad came down on my best friend. Now I barely qualify as functional.

But that… that should be changing, shouldn’t it? The weight that’s become my constant companion should be lifting now because…

“I-i-is he d-d-dead?” I ask. My voice, barely above a whisper, is rough and uncomfortable. I want to pull the question back, to swallow down my words and crumble in on myself. Less for the confirmation I seek, more for the fact that it might not be true. Because while conquering that monster is a step in the right direction, this shit is far from over. Really, really far.

The man carrying me pauses, his steady steps stuttering for just a moment before continuing forward, strong and sure. The arm around my back tightens briefly before relaxing again, almost like he knows that holding me too tightly is a bad thing.

“Alain? Yeah, he’s gone.”

I tense. Every muscle goes taut, my breath stutters, catching in my chest. My vision goes dark at the edges, and fear presses in all around me.

“G-g-gone? Not d-d-d-d⁠—”

I can’t. I can’t do this. Can’t keep living under the heavy crush of fear that’s ruled my life since I was taken. I’d been so certain my shot had hit him. So fucking certain and now…

“Dead. He’s dead, love.” His soft gaze rakes over me before he picks up his pace, moving briskly through this void. “Are you okay hearing that? Does it disturb you?”

Reality crashes over me. I spoke to this guy. I looked at him directly enough to note that he looked at me. Is this my brain twisting shit up on me? Is this real? God, I have no idea. My cheek warms as I shake my head, his black shirt soft against my skin.

He’s blissfully silent as he continues stalking through the dense woods, giving me space I desperately need to try to make sense of things. I should be scared. I know this beyond the shadow of a doubt because I’m still here. I’m still in this town, in the arms of a man I recognize but don’t remember. Held captive, both literally and figuratively.

But I’m not.

Deep down, in the recesses of my cold, broken, black heart, there’s a spark of something warm and familiar. Something that hints at the end. The question is: Which one?

Chapter 4