“Ruslan... it-it-it... hurts!”
The scream ripped out of me, unrecognizable—raw, shredded by rain and pain. My throat burned instantly, blood blooming warm against the cold.
“P-P-Please,” I sobbed, voice collapsing. “Please... save me...”
The word ‘save’ tasted foolish the moment it left my mouth. But desperation didn’t care about dignity.
My legs buckled. I staggered blindly toward the nearest edge of the circle, feet slipping in mud. One more step and I’d tumble into the open grave—into darkness, into earth, into anything but this freezing torment.
I didn’t care anymore.
Then—movement.
A shadow tore through the rain.
Someone was running—hard, reckless, slipping and catching himself as he burst into the circle of graves like a man chased by his own guilt.
I recognized him instantly.
My stomach dropped.
Dr. Marcus Hale.
My therapist.
Mid-forties. Thinning hair plastered to his scalp. Trench coat soaked through, clinging to his frame. The same man who had stand in a corner eight years ago, chewing his nails, eyes averted—while my aunt’s husband forced himself on me.
“Oh my God—” He skidded to a stop, breathless, panic etched across his face. “Elena?”
His gaze flicked over me—mud-smeared, shaking, barely upright.
“Did this man put you here?”
For a moment I couldn’t speak. I just stared at him through the rain, disbelief crashing into something darker, uglier.
He turned to Ruslan, hands lifting in a placating gesture.
“Mr. Baranov,” Marcus said quickly, voice shaking. “I know the police can’t touch you, but please—this is going too far. Let her go. Punish her another way. Anything. She’ll die out here.”
Ruslan didn’t raise his voice.
“Leave.”
The word was soft. Absolute.
Marcus hesitated.
Something in me snapped.
“Leave!” I screamed, the sound tearing my throat open anew. “Don’t pretend you care now!”
Marcus flinched as if struck.
The last of my strength gave out. I collapsed to my knees in the mud, sobbing so violently my body convulsed. Water pooled beneath my palms. Cold seeped into my skin.
“You made it happen,” I cried, words spilling without restraint. “You betrayed me. You sold me out.”
My hands clawed at my chest as if I could rip the memory free, tear it out like a tumor.
