“Fine,” he repeated, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You’re shivering.”
“I’m not.” She was.
He set down the kindling and rummaged through his satchel, retrieving a thin, folded blanket. “Here,” he said, tossing it to her. “Wrap yourself up before you freeze solid.”
She caught it and held it awkwardly for a moment before draping it over her shoulders. She buried her face in it for a moment, just long enough to inhale him—pine, ash, leather. It was grounding. It was unbearable.
She sat near the fire, feeling the heat warm her freezing skin and dry her clothes.
That’s when she saw them.
A small patch of wildflowers—pinks and purples smeared together like bruises. The sight hit her hard.
She didn’t move. Couldn’t move.
One… two… three.
The sounds of the forest dulled. All she could hear was her own breath, and then—his voice.
Feels good, doesn't it? I knew you wanted this.
Her hands trembled. She clenched them into fists, willing herself to stay present, but she was slipping. Slipping fast.
This the first time you’ve been fucked? I can tell by how tight you are.
The whispers wrapped around her like a noose. She couldn’t remember him saying those things but she knew in her bones they were memories. Her gaze locked on the flowers, unable to look away, as if counting them might anchor her. But the petals bled together, same as before. Pink. Purple. Pink again.
Everything within her seemed to halt, torn between fighting back and succumbing to the overwhelming memories.
“Hey,” A voice filtered through the haze. It was muffled and distant, like it was coming from the bottom of a well. She was drowning in memories, the wildflowers dragging her under.
She didn’t react.
“Elora?”
She blinked and looked around, desperate for some footing. It was Rell. He was the one speaking, not—
Rell stepped closer, his footfall sounding like boots on dirt, too much like that day. Too loud. Too close. She flinched. As he reached out, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her sleeve, an instinct took over, primal and panicked. She didn’t think.
She snapped.
She twisted out from under his reach, her mind still swimming, her vision blurred by the ghosts of what once was. Her wild eyes locked on him as if he was the enemy. She bared her teeth, lettingout a warning. Her spine arched like a cornered cat, ready to launch herself at him, ready to fight for her life if she had to, ready to tear him apart if he crossed another inch.
Rell stumbled backward, caught off guard and tripping over a root. He barely managed to keep his balance, his hands going up in immediate surrender.
“Hey, hey—it’s me. Just me.”
Elora crouched low, every muscle tense and refusing to relax. Her wild instincts fought for control. She was back there again, cornered, no power, no way out. This time, she wouldn’t be a victim.Not again. I’ll fight this time.She was ready to strike, or run, or both. She was ready to do anything but break.
“You’re safe,” he said, slowly kneeling a few feet away. He moved with careful intent, like she was a wounded animal. “It’s the forest—it messes with your head. I know. But you’re safe.” He didn’t inch closer, just stayed steady, hoping she’d meet him halfway.
Her hands shook. The scent of those flowers lingered.
She blinked hard, her vision doubling. Rell’s face morphed into someone else’s—ginger hair, crocked, cocky smirk—then back again.
The whispers aren’t real.She forced herself to believe it. She fought through panic and memory and terror until she saw only Rell. Just Rell.
She dropped her claws.
