My field of perception occasionally narrows, making me lose track of the events. Panic grips me too tightly, my chest tightening as if it's collapsing in on itself. I feel large hands press firmly on my shoulders. They're warm, but the line between comfort and suffocation is blurry.
Bit by bit, I regain focus. I glance around the room—only Eleonora, Arthur, and Cody are here. Leo is gone. Logic tells me there's no reason to be afraid, but fear is a ruthless force.
"You with us?" Arthur's steady voice cuts through the fog.
I manage a small nod. Everyone's faces are drawn with concern, but I can't absorb their emotions. I'm too consumed by my own. Arthur's grip on my shoulder shifts unexpectedly. He tugs at my injured palm, and I flinch as pain shoots through it. I refuse to look at the wound—shame and fear anchor my gaze elsewhere.
"Enough of this shit," Arthur finally snaps, his calm tone cracking under strain. "Can you, for once, just trust us and spill what's going on inside that head of yours?"
His frustration cuts deep, not because of anger but the underlying anxiety. I instinctively try to pull my hand back, but his hold is stronger. Any excuses I could muster wither before they reach my lips. I feel trapped, like a cornered animal.
"Arthur," Elle steps forward and gently places a hand on his arm, drawing him back.
She takes my hand, her touch soft, and inspects the wound. The silence stretches as her brow furrows. Her lips press into a thin line, and though I avoid her eyes, her empathy is palpable.
"Nate," she whispers. "Please, say something."
I know I can't avoid the inevitable. They'll keep pushing until I break. And though the thought terrifies me, there's a strange relief in knowing I might finally get the help I need. I've always been this way—unable to reveal the darkness in my mind until someone forces it into the light.
"I…" my voice falters. "I don't even know where to start."
Arthur exhales, the tension in his posture softening. He pats my shoulder lightly, like a father steadying a child.
"Then we'll start my way. What's going on?" he asks, his tone calm but insistent.
I hesitate, certain they won't understand. Still, I force the words out. "I've been training with my fire again. It's the only way I can control it."
Arthur and Eleonora exchange glances, but it's Elle who speaks first. "Do you need to hurt yourself for that? No gift is worth this. We've managed before, and we can manage again."
Her words throw me off balance, sowing doubt where I thought none could exist. But the doubt is fleeting, overtaken by my resolve.
"Yes, we've managed so far," I reply, straightening slightly, "but we all know we need this."
"I told you to stop worrying about the hunts for a while," Arthur's expression hardens. "Do you think I'm blind? You're so worn out it's a struggle just to keep your eyes open."
I meet his gaze for the first time, searching for understanding. Instead, I feel cornered and judged.
"Maybe if you saw what I've seen, you'd understand." I snap. "Every second we waste, more lives are at risk. Fuck, we need to stop him."
"I'm doing everything I can, but the only one who can track that dipshit is Kaja, and even she's hit a wall." Arthur's jaw tightens. "What do you suggest we do? Torture her until she has a vision?"
"I didn't say that!" I shout, standing abruptly. The sudden movement makes my vision blur, but I steady myself. "But there are other ways. You just don't want to find him."
Arthur's face flushes with anger. "Cut the crap. We'll stop him, but fucking killing yourself in the process helps no one!"
"Maybe it's not your choice!" I yell back, my composure breaking. "I'll do whatever it takes to end this."
"And what, you think you can do it alone?" Arthur closes the distance between us, grabbing my collar. "That you're better than the rest of us? The scar from last time should remind you of your limits."
His words ignite something in me. I shove his hands off and push him back.
"To hell with your sermons."
Arthur laughs bitterly, running a hand through his hair. "You're not angry at me. You're angry because you can't admit the truth, Nate. You can't do this alone!"
"Arthur, Nate, stop it. Please!" Elle intervenes, desperate yet commanding.
The room falls silent except for our ragged breaths. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cody standing frozen, his face troubled. He shouldn't have to witness this. I've failed again—failed to explain, failed to control myself, failed everyone.
Overwhelmed, I wipe my sweat-drenched face and head for the door. As I pass Cody, his warm fingers catch mine. I pause, meeting his gaze. His eyes are steady, full of worry I don't deserve.
"Please," he whispers, squeezing my hand.
"I'm sorry," I murmur, gently slipping free from his grasp.
I step out of the bookstore and pause on the sidewalk, my gaze trailing over the building from top to bottom. It's the only place where someone still cares, still waits for me. Yet, in this life and the one before, I've failed to protect and hold onto what's precious.
I don't know if suffering is a choice or if it's etched into my very blood like some kind of curse. But hell isn't the fiery abyss people imagine—it's something far worse. It's the prison you build within yourself, the torment you shape with your own hands.
And I've been trapped in mine forever. A place where escape doesn't exist. A place where even surrounded by others, I am utterly and completely alone.