The first thing I notice is the silence. It sweeps over the park like a sudden gust of wind, erasing all the sounds—the distant chatter of students, the rustling of leaves, even the quiet breathing of the earth itself. The kind of silence that feels unnatural, like the world has held its breath, waiting for something to happen.
I freeze, mid-conversation with Sasha, the words catching in my throat. Her eyes are still locked on me, her expression softening as if she's about to say something comforting, something that might anchor me in the moment. But I can't hear her anymore. Not really. Because something inside me stirs, something dark and primal, tugging at the edge of my consciousness like a persistent whisper.
Lucy.
I don't know how I know. I just do. It's like a pulse, a jolt deep in my core that I can't ignore. My connection to her isn't something I fully understand—not yet, at least—but it's there, undeniable. And right now, it's screaming at me. She's in danger. Something is wrong.
"V?" Sasha's voice cuts through the haze, but it's distant, like she's speaking through water. "What's wrong?"
I snap my head toward her, the look on her face flickering between concern and confusion. But I can't focus on her anymore. I can't focus on anything except the overwhelming need to go to Lucy, to fix whatever's gone horribly wrong.
"I have to go," I say, my voice low and urgent, already stepping back from her, already turning away.
Sasha frowns, stepping toward me as if to stop me. "V, what's happening? Talk to me."
But I can't. Not now. There's no time to explain. I turn on my heel and bolt, leaving Sasha standing there in the fading sunlight, her questions hanging in the air behind me. My mind is racing, my body moving on pure instinct, driven by the pulse that keeps hammering in my skull.
I sprint across the park, the world around me blurring into a smear of colors and shapes. Students are milling about, oblivious, laughing, lounging on the grass, completely unaware that something is shattering apart just out of sight. I weave through them, my eyes locked on the path ahead, my mind focused solely on Lucy.
When I reach the edge of campus, I don't slow down. My legs burn, my lungs scream for air, but none of it matters. Not now. Not when I can feel Lucy's fear, her pain, seeping into me like a poison. It's more than just an intuition—it's like I'm tethered to her, like our shared history and the way I've manipulated her thoughts has woven us together in ways I hadn't fully anticipated.
The dorm comes into view, and I barrel through the front doors, ignoring the startled looks of the people in the lobby. Up the stairs, three steps at a time, my heart pounding in my chest. The further I go, the stronger the sensation becomes. She's close. And she's hurt.
I throw open the door to our dorm room, and the sight that greets me makes my stomach drop.
Lucy is on the floor, crumpled in a heap near her desk, blood trickling from a gash on her forehead. Her breathing is shallow, labored, and her eyes flutter weakly, barely focusing on me as I drop to my knees beside her. Panic surges through me, and for a split second, I'm frozen, unable to move, unable to think.
"Lucy," I breathe, my voice shaking with an unfamiliar intensity. I reach out, gently lifting her head, my fingers brushing against the slick warmth of her blood. "Lucy, can you hear me?"
Her eyelids flutter again, and a soft, barely audible moan escapes her lips. She's conscious—barely—but she's in bad shape. My mind races, trying to make sense of what happened, of who did this to her. My eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of the person responsible, but there's nothing. Just the shattered remains of a lamp on the floor, its broken pieces scattered across the carpet.
I have to focus. I have to think. There's no time to spiral into chaos.
"Lucy," I say again, more urgently this time. "Who did this? Tell me what happened."
She tries to speak, but her voice comes out as a broken whisper, too faint for me to understand. Her hand twitches, reaching for me, and I catch it, squeezing gently as I lean closer, my ear near her mouth.
"J-James..." she rasps, her breath hitching with pain.
James. The name hits me like a sledgehammer. James was one of the guys in her creative writing class. I've seen him a few times, hovering around Lucy, trying to edge his way into her life. I never paid him much attention—he was just another background figure in the carefully crafted web of people I controlled from a distance. But now...
Now he's crossed a line.
I feel the darkness surge inside me, rising to the surface, thick and suffocating. The passenger stirs, restless, sensing the violence, the anger boiling just beneath my skin. For the first time in a long time, I don't try to suppress it. I let it rise. I let it take over.
James. That bastard put his hands on Lucy. He hurt her. He thought he could take what he wanted and walk away.
Not anymore.
"Stay with me, Lucy," I murmur, my voice low and dangerous. "I'll take care of this."
She whimpers softly, her hand tightening around mine, but I'm already pulling away, already standing, my mind sharpening to a razor's edge. The rage is there now, coiled tight in my chest, fueling every step as I move toward the door.
James. I know where to find him.
I stalk through the campus, my senses heightened, my mind honed on one thing and one thing only: James. I've seen him in the student center before, hanging around with his friends, smug and self-satisfied, thinking he owns the world. It doesn't take long to spot him there now, lounging on one of the couches, laughing with his buddies like nothing's wrong.
Like he didn't just beat a girl and leave her bleeding on the floor.
The sight of him makes my blood boil, the passenger roaring in approval, urging me forward, urging me to let it take full control. But I hold back—barely. I want him to see me coming. I want him to feel the terror before I tear his world apart.
He looks up as I approach, his smile faltering when he sees the expression on my face. I don't stop, don't slow down. I close the distance between us in seconds, and before he can say a word, my hand is around his throat, yanking him to his feet and slamming him against the wall.
The entire room goes silent, the eyes of the other students wide with shock, but I don't care. My focus is entirely on James, on the fear in his eyes as he realizes what's happening.
"What the hell?" he gasps, his hands clawing at mine, trying to break my grip. "V, what are you doing?"
I lean in close, my voice a low, dangerous growl. "You hurt her."
He freezes, his eyes widening in understanding. "I—I didn't mean—"
"Shut up." I tighten my grip, pressing harder, watching as his face reddens, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. "You don't get to make excuses."
I can see the terror in his eyes now, and it fuels me, the passenger feeding off his fear, his desperation. He knows he's made a mistake, and he knows he's about to pay for it.
"I—I'm sorry!" he chokes out, his voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to hurt her, I swear! It was an accident!"
"An accident?" I snarl, my voice dripping with contempt. "You call beating someone until they bleed an accident?"
He shakes his head frantically, tears welling up in his eyes. "Please! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—"
I slam him against the wall again, harder this time, cutting off his pathetic excuses. The passenger is screaming for blood, for vengeance, and it takes everything in me to hold it back, to keep from crossing the line. But I won't let him off that easily. He needs to feel this, needs to know what it's like to be powerless.
"You're going to regret ever touching her," I hiss, my voice cold and lethal. "You're going to regret ever thinking you could get away with this."
His eyes widen in pure terror, and I can see the realization dawn on him. He knows I'm not bluffing. He knows that I'm capable of things he can't even begin to understand.
And then, just as I'm about to lose myself completely, I hear it.
Lucy's voice, soft and pleading, echoing in the back of my mind.
"Please, V. Don't."
The words slice through the fog of rage, pulling me back from the brink. For a moment, I hesitate, my grip on James loosening just slightly. I can feel the passenger snarling in protest, but I push it down, forcing myself to take a step back, to regain control.
Lucy wouldn't want this. Not like this.
With a final, withering glare, I release James, letting him slump to the floor, gasping for breath. He scrambles away from me, his hands trembling as he clutches his throat.
I stand over James, watching him cower on the ground, his terror palpable. His hands tremble as they clutch his bruised neck, and his eyes dart around the room, looking for someone—anyone—to intervene. But no one moves. No one dares.
The other students are frozen, their eyes wide, their mouths slightly open as they witness what just happened. It's a stark contrast to their usual indifference, to their hollow lives spent drifting through meaningless conversations and shallow relationships. This is real, and it's frightening. They can see it now—that part of me I try so hard to keep hidden, the darkness that slithers just beneath the surface.
I've lost control, even if just for a moment. And that's all it takes.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside me, trying to regain the mask of normalcy. But I can still feel the passenger, restless and unsatisfied, lurking in the shadows of my mind, waiting for the next opportunity to strike. It's hungry, always hungry, and I've only given it a taste.
James scrambles to his feet, stumbling back toward the door, his eyes wide with terror. "Stay away from me, man. You're... you're crazy." His voice cracks, and it takes everything in me not to lunge at him again. He deserves more than fear. He deserves to feel every ounce of the pain he caused.
But Lucy's voice lingers in my mind, grounding me, holding me back.
James doesn't wait for me to respond. He bolts from the room, disappearing down the hall in a blur, leaving behind the stench of cowardice and desperation. The silence that follows is thick, suffocating. I can feel the weight of every eye in the room on me, feel the judgment, the confusion.
But none of them matter. None of these people matter. Only Lucy matters.
Without a word, I turn and walk out, leaving the crowd of students behind, still too shocked to react. As I head back toward the dorm, my steps quick and determined, I try to shake the lingering rage that clings to me like oil. But it's not that simple. It never is. The passenger doesn't just go away because I will it to. It stays, watching, waiting.
When I reach our dorm room, I find Lucy right where I left her—still on the floor, her breathing shallow, her eyes barely open. I kneel beside her again, my heart pounding in my chest, and this time, I'm gentler. I wipe away the blood on her forehead with a damp cloth I find in the bathroom, my hands steady but my mind racing.
Her eyes flutter open, just enough for her to focus on me. "V?" she whispers, her voice weak but full of trust. "What... what happened?"
"It's okay," I say softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "You're safe now. I took care of it."
She doesn't ask what I mean. Maybe she's too weak, too tired to care. Or maybe she knows, deep down, what I'm capable of. What I've been hiding all this time. And yet, even in her pain, even after everything that's happened, she trusts me.
I help her sit up, careful not to hurt her further, and for a moment, we just sit there in the silence, the weight of what's happened settling between us. My mind is still racing, replaying the scene over and over—the way James looked at her, the way he thought he could hurt her and get away with it. I know this isn't over. Not for him. He'll suffer for what he's done. He just doesn't know it yet.
But Lucy's safety is my priority. I can deal with James later.
"I need to get you to the hospital," I say, my voice steady. "You've lost a lot of blood."
"No," she whispers, shaking her head weakly. "I don't want to go to the hospital."
"Lucy, you need to—"
"Please, V," she cuts me off, her voice trembling but determined. "I just... I don't want anyone else involved. I don't want them to know."
There's fear in her eyes, a deeper fear than I realized. She's not just scared of the hospital. She's scared of what this all means, of what people will think if they find out. She's scared of being seen as a victim, of being pitied. I understand that. I've spent my whole life hiding behind masks, manipulating people so they'd never see the real me. I know what it's like to fear exposure.
"Alright," I say softly, relenting. "But you have to let me clean you up, at least. You need to rest."
She nods, her head lolling slightly, and I help her to her feet, guiding her gently to the bed. Once she's lying down, I start to clean the wound on her forehead more thoroughly, dabbing at it with antiseptic and wrapping it carefully. She winces, but she doesn't complain. She's tougher than she looks, even now, even after everything.
As I work, I can feel the darkness inside me begin to settle, the passenger receding for the time being, satisfied with the chaos it's wrought. But I know it won't stay dormant for long. It never does.
Once I've finished tending to her, I sit beside the bed, watching as her breathing becomes more even, as sleep pulls her under. She looks so fragile like this, so small and vulnerable. And yet, there's a strength in her too, a quiet resilience that I hadn't fully appreciated until now.
I sit there for what feels like hours, my mind drifting between the past and the present, between the person I've become and the person I'm pretending to be. I've spent so long manipulating Lucy, pulling her strings, guiding her thoughts and actions without her even realizing it. I've controlled so much of her life, all in an effort to understand who I really am. But now... now it feels different.
Now, it feels personal.
James isn't the first person to hurt someone I care about. And I know he won't be the last. But this... this feels different. More dangerous. More real. I've crossed a line, and there's no going back.
I glance at Lucy, watching the way her chest rises and falls with each breath. She doesn't know the full extent of what's happening—of what I'm capable of. But she trusts me, and that's enough for now.
As I sit there, the silence stretching between us, I can't shake the feeling that this is just the beginning. That something darker, something more sinister, is waiting just around the corner. The passenger stirs again, whispering in the back of my mind, reminding me of the darkness that lives within me.
I'll have to confront it soon. There's no avoiding it anymore.
Hours pass, and Lucy sleeps fitfully, her body recovering from the trauma. I watch over her, barely moving, my mind whirring with plans, with thoughts of what I'll do next. James may think he's safe now, but he's not. No one who hurts Lucy will ever be safe.
When the sun finally begins to rise, casting a pale light through the window, Lucy stirs. She winces as she tries to sit up, and I'm by her side in an instant, helping her.
"How are you feeling?" I ask, my voice soft.
She grimaces, touching the bandage on her head. "Like I've been hit by a truck."
I force a smile, but the worry gnaws at me. "You should rest more. You've been through a lot."
She shakes her head, her eyes meeting mine. "What happened after I passed out? Did you... did you find James?"
For a moment, I hesitate. I could lie. I could tell her I left it alone, that I didn't do anything drastic. But I don't. Not this time.
"I found him," I say, my voice low. "And I made sure he knows never to come near you again."
Her eyes widen, and for a second, fear flickers across her face. But then, just as quickly, it's replaced by something else—gratitude, maybe. Or relief.
"Thank you," she whispers, leaning back against the pillows. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
The words hit me harder than I expect. There's something raw in her voice, something that tugs at a part of me I thought was long buried. I don't deserve her gratitude. I don't deserve her trust. But I'll take it. I'll take whatever she's willing to give.
Because no matter what happens next, no matter how dark things get, I know one thing for certain:
I'll protect her. At any cost.
Even if it means losing myself in the process.