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But monsters don’t always have claws. Sometimes, they wear the face of someone you used to sleep beside. Sometimes, they whisper lies while pulling off your clothes. Sometimes, they leave bruises instead of kisses.

It wasn’t a weakness. It was helplessness.

He turned me around and yanked down my pants. My body shook. Every part of me trembling.

And in that moment, I knew—I’d reached the edge. The final moment. The one I wouldn’t come back from. The one that would scar me in places no one could ever see.

I shut my eyes tight. Let the tears fall. Let the pain in.

And then darkness took me.

Something pulled me down—past the floor, past my body, into something cold and endless. I collapsed, disappearing into it.

And in that void, I tried to dream. Dream that Dorian would show up, find me, and drag me out of hell. Dream that he’d protect me like he used to, even from death.

But this wasn’t a dream.

This was the nightmare I’d been living for months. This was hell, and I knew it.

And if I’m honest, sometimes, I wish I hadn’t survived.

Sometimes, I wish I had been the one who died.

Nothim. Not Dorian.

I woke up in bed.

The clock buzzed—6:00 a.m.

My eyes wandered down to my arms, my hands. I wasn’t wearing the white night dress anymore. Jeans. White top. The clothes I’d worn when I arrived.

Rain tapped against the window.

Of course, it was raining. Of course.

That’s what my life was. A loop of storms. A cycle of waking nightmares.

But was it all a dream?

God,I thought,what is happening to me?

I stood up slowly, legs shaky, and walked toward the wall covered in that old green wallpaper. And when I got close, I saw my reflection in the cracked mirror across from it.

My face was bruised.

I reached up with a trembling hand, fingers brushing the swelling around my eye, the sharp sting of it lighting up my nerves.

This was real.All of it.

Troy did again, and I let it happen again.

My body was numb. Skin painted with bruises, hair knotted and tangled. I was walking chaos, and somewhere deep inside, something screamed.

The little girl I used to be cried in there. She was dying in there.

I used to see light in people. I used to believe in it. Now all I saw were passing shadows, flickering shapes, like ghosts brushing past. Behind my eyes, just white static, and I was the loudest noise of them all.

Tears slipped without permission. My chest rose and fell in uneven stutters, my heart pounding like it was trying to escape. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.