“I-I’m not s-scared.” But my body trembles with fear, betraying every word.
“Liar,” he snarls. His spittle hits my skin. I still don’t move. I know better. I’ve learned.
“Please,” I whisper.
“You want to make it right?” His voice is low and hungry, like he’s offering a favor instead of demanding something sick. “Show me how sorry you are.”
My heart stops. I hear the sound of shifting fabric. A zipper. My stomach rolls, but I stay still. Still and quiet. That’s the safest way. He always said it was better if I didn’t fight.
The meaty sound of his hand jerking himself, rough and fast, echoes. I stare at the ceiling. I count the cracks in the paint. I try to float away. Somewhere far.
I barely feel it when he grabs me. Exposes me. I’ve left my body by then.
The room fades to static. Then heat. Then cold.
It’s almost over. Almost.
Until it’s not. Until he’s muttering praise and poison in the same breath, and striking me when I don’t respond fast enough.
“Thank me,” he hisses. “Be grateful.”
“Th-thank you,” I stutter, clutching my smarting cheek.
He slams the door behind him, footsteps retreating down the stairs like distant thunder. I sit frozen for a second, then rip off my shirt, my fingers shaking so badly I can hardly grasp the hem. My stomach churns as I scrub at my skin, trying to wipe away the shame, the scent, the weight of what just happened. Of what always happens.
“Princess!”
I freeze, blinking.
That voice is different. Softer. Familiar in a way that slows my racing heart.
“Princess, wake up! It’s just a dream!”
The room begins to change. My once lavender walls blur into white. My childhood dresser becomes a sleek, modern one. There’s no spilt whiskey, no cracked window, no monster in the corner.
Axel is standing in front of me, wide-eyed, real.
“Axel!” I sob, launching myself into his arms. He catches me without hesitation, wrapping me in warmth and solidity.
“I’m here. You’re safe,” he says, rubbing slow circles into my back. “It was just a nightmare. You’re home.”
I bury my face into his neck before I realize… Oh God, I’m not wearing a shirt.
Horrified, I scramble back, crossing my arms over my chest. “C-can you hand me my shirt?”
Axel’s already reaching for it without looking at me, holding it out with careful hands. “Here.”
I yank it on quickly, throat tight with shame even though I know it’s irrational. Axel is one person who won’t judge me. Not for this.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t see anything,” he says gently, keeping his eyes on the far wall. “And even if I had, I’d never—Lina, I respect you too much. You know that, right?”
I nod, though the lump in my throat makes it hard to speak. I sit cross-legged under the covers, trying to catch my breath.
He turns back to face me, giving me time, giving me space.
“You want me to stay?” he asks.
“Yes. Please.”
