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And there he was.

“It’s Christmas,” I said, my voice small and fragile as I stepped forward, clutching the plate like it was the only thing holding me together.

Christopher didn’t look up at first. “That’s great,” he muttered, staring at his lap, his voice hollow.

“Merry Christmas, Evie.” Jackson smiled, and I couldn't help the way all the tension in my body seemed to seep away from the sight of him, as if it was telling me that…we were safe. For now. My lip trembled before I could stop it as he smiled at me like nothing had changed. I slowly moved closer, like if I rushed it, he might disappear. The mattress dipped as I sank down between them, close enough to feel his warmth, but not quite touching him.

“Merry Christmas,” I whispered, looking at him, really looking at him, and seeing the familiar hazel that I loved so much staring back at me “It’s not much…” My voice came out thinner than I wanted. I cleared my throat, trying again. “I couldn’t take any more. He would’ve noticed.” Jackson’s eyes flicked briefly to Christopher, then back to me, and he smiled again, reassuring me, like he wasn’t the one chained to a wall.

“It’s more than enough,” he said gently. “Really. Thank you.” My chest tightened at that. I nodded, even though it didn’t feel true, and set the plate down between us. My fingers moved automatically, tearing a piece of the cold roast in half, though they trembled the whole time.

“I’d eat a tyre if you cooked it, Evie,” Christopher said, trying for humour. I let out a small breath that almost sounded like a laugh, but it broke halfway through. I leaned forward, holding a piece out to each of them—but my eyes stayed on Jackson. He opened his mouth without hesitation, and his lips brushed my fingers as I fed him, dry and warm, and something in my chest twisted painfully.

“Taste good?” I questioned, picking up another piece as Christopher opened his mouth for more.

“So good,” Jackson said, like he meant it.

Christopher nodded along. “Best meal I’ve had in weeks.”

They were lying.

They had to be.

But I nodded anyway, because I needed it to feel real for just a second. I picked up another piece, bringing it to Jackson again. He huffed a quiet laugh as he chewed, like he was trying to make it normal. Like this was just something we did.

But it wasn’t.

Nothing about this was normal.

His eyes caught the light, brighter than the last time I’d seen him. That was what broke me. Not the dark purple bruises blooming across his face and down his body, but the way he was looking at me. “Are you in pain?” I asked softly, the question barely holding together.

He swallowed and shook his head. “Not anymore.”

I bit down on my lip hard enough to ground myself, nodding quickly as I looked away for a second, blinking against the sting in my eyes, knowing that I needed to go back upstairs now. But I didn't want to leave him. I wanted to stay down here with him forever if I could. “I’ll bring more,” I said, the words tumbling out too fast. “I’ll try to—to sneak more down. I just…he usually waits a week before he feeds…” My voice faltered. “And I…didn’t want you to wait that long.”

Silence followed for half a second. I hated myself for saying it, especially in front of Christopher, who’d experienced it. But when I glanced back up at him, Jackson was still smiling, and it made my chest ache. “I don’t want you getting into trouble for me, Evie,” he said quietly. “Just do what you usually do.” I shook my head slightly, instinctively, even though I didn’t have an argument ready.

“I’ll figure something out,” he continued. “I’ll get us out of here.”

I stared at him.

At the certainty in his eyes.

At the way he said it like it wasn’t impossible.

“Okay?” he added gently. “You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m here now.” He said it with such conviction for a man chained to a wall, that it stole my breath and ignited a flicker of hope that I quickly smothered. The Jackson I grew up with was always so strong and confident. But this version of him simply had no idea there was no way out for me. He couldn’t save me, and he certainly couldn’t save himself. It was…up to me to get him out of here.

I just needed to figure out how.

So I smiled and nodded like I believed him and pushed myself up slowly, moving backwards as I stood, clutching the small plate in my hands like it was the only thing tethering me to the ground. “Well…I have to go now,” I whispered, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. “He’s…gonna be back soon,” I said, my grip tightening as my bottom lip kept trembling, despite everything I was doing to stop it. Christopher looked away, but Jackson kept his eyes fixed on me. The pain reflecting back was so visceral, it psychically hurt to see.

“Please don’t cry, Evie,” he said, his voice breaking, his brows pulling together as his expression collapsed into something devastated.

“I’m sorry,” I whimpered, the words barely forming before my hand flew to my mouth. A sob broke out of me, tearing through everything I’d been trying to keep contained. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—” My shoulders shook as I tried to quiet it, tried to pull myself back together, but it was too much. Too much of him, too much of this, too much waiting upstairs for something I couldn’t escape.

Because I couldn’t go back up there.

I couldn’t.