It wasn't a solution. The guilt and trauma weren't gone, just temporarily quieted. Cade still had a mountain to climb in her recovery, and we still had a monster to catch. But for the first time since we'd brought her home, I felt like just maybe we could find our way through this darkness together. As I drifted toward sleep, Ryder's steady presence beside me, I made a silent promise to Cade. I would stop hiding. I would face my demons alongside her, and together, we would rebuild what had been broken. Not the same as it was before, that was impossible. But something new, something stronger for having been shattered and remade. Tomorrow, I would begin.
The sunlight streaming through the windows felt like a mockery. Warm and bright, promising a day full of possibilities when all I could see was the darkness that had become my constant companion. I pulled the throw blanket tighter around my shoulders, huddling deeper into the corner of the couch as Luce sorted through the stack of papers she'dbrought from our classes.
"Professor said to tell you there's no rush on the Austen essay," she said, sliding a printed syllabus across the coffee table toward me. "He's extended your deadline until whenever you feel ready." I nodded, not meeting her eyes. Another accommodation. Another reminder that I wasn't normal anymore. That I was broken in ways people could see, even when I was trying my hardest to hide it.
"Thanks," I managed, my voice still carrying that raspy quality that hadn't quite disappeared since my rescue. The doctors said it was from screaming, from dehydration, from trauma. Just another scar, this one invisible but no less real than the others on my body.
Luce watched me with concern etched across her features. I hated that look. Had come to despise the careful way everyone treated me, like I was made of glass and might shatter at any moment. The worst part was, they weren't wrong.
"Cole helped me get notes from your Literature class," Luce continued, pulling out another folder. "And Ryder spoke to your Creative Writing professor. She said you can submit your portfolio whenever you're ready, even if that's not until next term." At the mention of Cole and Logan, something twisted painfully in my chest. Cole, who could barely look at me anymore. Who found every excuse to be elsewhere when I entered a room. And Logan, who'd been gone more than he'd been present since they'd brought me home, always chasing leads, always hunting Damien, always anywhere but here with me. Only Ryder remained constant, a steady presence at my side. But even his devotion sometimes felt like a burden, another weight of expectation I couldn't possibly fulfill.
"Cade?" Luce's voice cut through my spiralling thoughts. "Where'd you go just now?" I blinked, forcing myself back to the present.
"Sorry. Just... thinking." Luce set the papers aside, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.
"Talk to me. Please? You've been so quiet lately." A bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it.
"What do you want me to say, Luce? That I'm fine? That I'm getting better? Because I'm not sure that's true."
"I just want you to tell me what you're feeling," she said gently. "Whatever it is, even if it's messy or dark or doesn't make sense." I stared down at my hands, at the chipped nail polish Luce had applied for me a few days ago in an attempt at normalcy. Already flaking away, just like everything else.
"I think Logan and Cole hate me," I whispered, the words burning my throat as they escaped. "Or maybe not hate, but... they can't stand to be around me anymore. And I don't blame them."
"Cade, no-"
"It's true," I interrupted, finally looking up to meet her gaze. "Logan's barely been home since they found me. And Cole looks at me like it physically hurts him. Like I'm a reminder of everything that went wrong." I swallowed hard against the lump forming in my throat. "Maybe I am."
Luce moved to sit beside me on the couch, close but not touching, respecting the space I still sometimes needed.
"They don't hate you, Cade. They're struggling with their own guilt, their own trauma about what happened."
"Trauma?" I repeated the word tasting bitter on my tongue. "What trauma? They weren't the ones who-" I cut myself off, unable to finish the sentence. Unable to put into words what had been done to me in that cold, dark cell.
"No, they weren't," Luce agreed softly. "But they love you, Cade. And they failed to protect you. They spent all that time imagining the worst, and then they found you and discovered reality was even worse than what they'd imagined." She hesitated, then added, "And you know Cole has his own history with abuse. Seeing you like that, knowing what was done to you, Ryder told me it's bringing back his own nightmares." I hadn't known that. Or maybe I had, but I'd been too consumed by my own pain to really process it. Shame washed over me, hot and suffocating.
"I didn't realise."
"How could you?" Luce asked, her voice gentle. "You've been fighting your own battles. No one expects you to carry theirs, too." But wasn't that exactly what I was doing? Expecting them to shoulder my burdens while I ignored theirs? The thought made me feel even more selfish, more unworthy of their care.
"My therapist says I should try to get back to normal," I said, changing the subject slightly. "Go to classes, see friends, do the things I used to do before..." I waved a hand vaguely, unable to find the right words. Before I was kidnapped. Before I was raped and tortured for weeks on end. Before I became this hollow shell of a person.
"And how do you feel about that?" Luce asked carefully. I laughed again, the sound hollow and without humour.
"I don't even know what normal is anymore, Luce. I don't recognise myself when I look in the mirror." My fingers moved unconsciously to the ends of my hair, once vibrant purple, now a faded, washed-out blonde with just hints of lavender at the very tips. "I used to dye my hair because it made me feel strong, you know? Like armour. Like I was choosing to stand out, to be different." Luce nodded, her expression softening.
"I remember. You were so proud of it."
"Now I look in the mirror and I don't even see myself. I see this... ghost. This pale, frightened, broken thing that I don't recognise." I tugged at the faded strands, frustration welling up.
"It's stupid, I know. It's just hair. But it feels like... like one more thing he took from me. One more piece of who I was that's gone."
"It's not stupid," Luce insisted, reaching out to gently take my hand, stopping me from pulling at my hair. "Your hair was part of your identity. You could get it back. Or something completely different. The point is, it's your choice, Cade. You get to decide who you are now."
But that was the problem, wasn't it? I didn't know who I was anymore. The old Cade was gone, shattered beyond recognition in that cold, dark cell. And this new version, this broken, frightened creature who flinched at loud noises and couldn't sleep without a light on, I didn't want to be her either.
"I feel like a ghost," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "Like I'm haunting my own life. Like I'm not really here at all." Luce's eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back quickly.
"You're here, Cade. You survived. And I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but that's a victory. You beat him. You're still here, and he didn't break you." But he had broken me. That was the truth no one wanted to acknowledge. Damien had shattered me into so many pieces that I wasn't sure I'd ever be whole again. The best I could hope for was to gather enough fragments to form something that could function in the world, something that could pretend to be normal.
