I move to Eli and carefully lift him into my arms. He stirs faintly but settles again as I carry him to bed, laying him down and pulling the blankets over him. I don’t leave immediately. I just watch him breathe, making sure he’s still here with me. The rise and fall of his chest is the only thing keeping me steady right now.
I watch him for a while longer, then leave the door cracked and head back to the kitchen.
Dishes, counters, leftovers: pointless things. If I stop moving, the fear catches up. So I keep going, because if I stop, I think about that message again.
Found you.
By the time the apartment is clean, I turn off the lights and go to bed. Sleep doesn’t come, but Eli eventually crawls in and sprawls across me, breathing steady and finally still. My arms tighten around him. This is the only place he’s safe, and the only place I am, too.
I stare at the ceiling and make a promise I don’t intend to break.
He is mine.
The truth settles deep, fierce and unshakable. I won’t let anything take him from me. He has become someone I can’t imagine living without.
19
Eli
Adrian’s hands wrap around my throat, squeezing. I can’t breathe.
My lungs seize. My fingernails claw at his wrists, desperate to break his grip. I just need one breath: anything.
I pull harder, but he’s stronger. My vision blurs. Blood runs down my face.
The pressure eases for a fraction of a second, and I drag in a ragged breath and scream. The sound rips out of me, raw and broken, echoing through the darkness like a last attempt at survival.
“Eli! Wake up, baby. Eli!”
My chest is tight, like someone is sitting on it. The voice feels like a lifeline thrown into a storm I can’t escape.
I thrash, still trapped in the dream, my hands locked around my own throat. My lungs burn. I can’t breathe.
“Eli!”
Louder this time. Closer. Hands grip my shoulders.
“Eli, wake up. It’s CJ. Come on, Eli. Wake up for me, please.”
My eyes snap open. Air tears into my lungs as my whole body shakes. I gasp and cough, dragging breath after breath into my chest. My throat feels raw. The room tilts as reality slams back into place.
Then I see the blood.
I lift a shaking hand to my face. Blood coats my fingertips and my nails. I scratched myself.
“…CJ.” My voice breaks on the word.
He pulls me into his arms immediately. “I’ve got you,” he says, repeating it over and over. His arms tighten around me as he rocks me slowly, and I cling to him, my breath broken against his chest.
“He was trying to kill me,” I whisper, my voice barely working. “He had his hands around my throat. I couldn’t breathe, CJ.”
My voice cracks. The memory is still too close, too real.
“I heard you screaming, Eli,” he says, his voice rough against my hair. “You wouldn’t wake up.”
He pulls me down until we’re lying face to face, and my chest loosens slightly. Being close to him feels like the only thing keeping me grounded.
I tell him about the dream, or the parts I remember. That’s when his eyes catch the scratches on my face and arms, and the blood.
