My throat tightens. Fear and determination war in my chest.
“I want to,” I hear myself say. “I don’t want him to do this to someone else.”
Kieran’s jaw works. Something hardens in his expression, resolved and final.
“Good,” he says. Just that. Nothing else.
“You don’t need to do it today,” Aubrey adds gently. “Rest. We’ll figure out the next step when you’re ready.”
I nod, exhausted suddenly. The nausea is back, rolling through me in waves.
Kieran stands slowly. “I should let you sleep.” He hesitates. “But I’m close by. Anything you need, you call.”
“Kieran?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.” My voice cracks. “For getting there. For stopping him. For?—”
“You don’t have to thank me.” His voice is rough. “I just wish I’d been faster.”
“You were fast enough,” I whisper.
He nods once, something breaking and mending simultaneously in his expression. Then he leaves, Aubrey following with a promise to check in soon.
The door clicks shut.I sit in the quiet, blanket pulled to my chin.
My phone sits on the nightstand—screen dark, notifications silenced. I know without looking that it’s full of messages. People asking if I’m okay, if it’s true, if Reed really?—
I don’t open any of them. Instead, I reach for my laptop and open a new document.
My hands shake over the keys. But I start typing:
What I remember:
The bottle was sealed. I opened it myself.
The taste was sweet. Metallic. Wrong.
Heat crawled up my neck. Too fast. Too warm.
I couldn’t move right. My legs wouldn’t work.
He put his arm around me.
My body wouldn’t cooperate.
I tried to scream. Nothing came out.
My vision blurs. I wipe my eyes and keep typing.
This wasn’t my fault.
I stare at the last line.
This wasn’t my fault.
My hands shake, but I save the document.
