As Lucy stirs, her hand brushes against mine. It's an innocent touch, really—just the barest graze of skin on skin—but something shifts in the air between us. Her eyes, still heavy with sleep, flutter open, and they lock onto mine with an intensity that's almost startling.
"V," she whispers, her voice soft but laced with something deeper, something vulnerable. Her eyes search mine, and I can see the raw emotion flickering behind them—the gratitude, the trust, the fear. But there's something else there too, something I hadn't expected.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The room is quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of her breathing, the slight rustle of the sheets as she shifts. I should pull away, should retreat into the careful distance I've always maintained between us. But I don't. Instead, I stay right where I am, letting the warmth of her skin seep into mine.
"Thank you," she says again, her voice barely more than a whisper. "For everything."
I don't know how to respond. Words seem inadequate, hollow. So I don't say anything. Instead, I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, my fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. Her eyes close at the touch, and I can feel her leaning into it, into me.
There's a vulnerability in this moment, one that's different from anything I've felt before. It's not just about control, or manipulation, or the games I play with people. This is something else—something real. And it terrifies me.
Before I can pull back, before I can reassert the distance I need, Lucy's hand reaches up to cover mine, holding it against her cheek. Her skin is warm, soft, and I can feel the faint tremble in her fingers as she grips me tighter. When her eyes open again, they're filled with something that makes my heart stutter in my chest.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "I don't want to think about it."
The weight of her words settles between us, heavy and undeniable. My mind races, trying to process what's happening, trying to understand why I feel like I'm standing on the edge of something I can't control. The passenger is quiet now, but I can feel its presence lingering in the back of my mind, watching, waiting.
I should pull away. I should stop this before it goes any further. But I can't.
Lucy's hand tightens around mine, and then, before I can even process what's happening, she pulls me closer. It's a slow, hesitant movement, as if she's testing the waters, waiting to see if I'll pull back. But I don't. Instead, I let her guide me, let her bring me closer until our faces are just inches apart.
Her breath is warm against my skin, and I can see the way her chest rises and falls with each shallow breath. My heart pounds in my chest, a frantic rhythm that matches the chaos in my mind. But none of it matters in this moment. None of the manipulation, the darkness, the lies—it all fades away, leaving only the two of us, here in this room, in this fragile, fleeting moment.
And then, without thinking, without planning or calculating, I close the distance between us.
Her lips are soft, tentative at first, as if she's afraid of what this means, of what we're doing. But then, she melts into me, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. The kiss deepens, becomes more urgent, more real, and I can feel something inside me unraveling, something I've kept locked away for so long.
For a moment, I let myself forget who I am. I let myself forget about the darkness, the passenger, the constant manipulation. I let myself be here, with her, in this moment that feels more real than anything I've experienced in a long time.
But the moment doesn't last. It never does.
As soon as it's over, as soon as we pull apart, reality crashes back in. The weight of what we've done settles over me like a heavy, suffocating blanket. I can see the vulnerability in Lucy's eyes, the way she's looking at me like I'm something more than I am, like I'm someone who can save her, protect her.
But I'm not. I'm not that person. I can't be that person.
I pull away, the distance between us growing again, and Lucy's expression falters. "V?" she asks, her voice laced with confusion, with hurt. "What's wrong?"
"I..." I start to say something, but the words catch in my throat. I can't explain it to her. I can't tell her that I'm not the person she thinks I am, that I'm not capable of giving her what she needs. So instead, I just stand there, frozen, my mind spinning with a thousand thoughts, none of which make sense.
And then, as if the universe is mocking me, a sudden, overwhelming sense of dread washes over me.
Sasha.
The realization hits me like a freight train, and I stumble back, my heart racing for an entirely different reason now. I left her. I left her vulnerable, unprotected. And after what happened to Lucy, after what James did... I can't let that happen again. Not to her.
"I have to go," I say abruptly, my voice tight with urgency.
Lucy blinks, clearly taken aback. "What? Go where?"
"I just... I need to take care of something." I'm already moving toward the door, grabbing my jacket, my mind racing with the thought of Sasha, of the danger she could be in.
"V, wait," Lucy calls after me, her voice tinged with desperation. "Please, just talk to me. What's going on?"
I pause at the door, my hand on the knob, my back to her. For a moment, I consider turning around, consider telling her the truth. But I can't. Not now. Not when Sasha could be in danger. Not when I'm already losing control of everything.
"I'll explain later," I say, my voice tight. "I promise."
And then I'm gone, the door slamming shut behind me as I race down the hallway, my thoughts a tangled mess of fear and guilt. The intimacy I just shared with Lucy is already slipping away, replaced by a single, overwhelming thought:
I have to find Sasha. I have to protect her.
The campus is quiet as I make my way toward the park, the early morning light casting long shadows across the ground. My mind is racing, my pulse pounding in my ears as I push through the growing panic. I can't believe I left her alone. After everything that's happened, after what James did to Lucy... how could I be so careless?
Sasha has no idea what's lurking in the shadows, no idea what kind of danger she could be in. And I left her there, vulnerable, because I got caught up in something I don't even fully understand myself.
I push harder, my legs burning as I break into a run, the park coming into view in the distance. It feels like time is slipping away from me, like every second that passes is another second she's at risk. I don't know why I feel so responsible for her, why this sense of protectiveness has taken root so deeply inside me. But I do know one thing: I can't let anything happen to her.
When I finally reach the park, my chest heaving from exertion, I scan the area frantically, my eyes darting from one shadow to the next, looking for any sign of her. The park is mostly empty, save for a few early morning joggers and dog walkers, but there's no sign of Sasha.
My heart pounds harder in my chest, a sick feeling twisting in my gut. Where is she? Did something happen? Did I... did I fail her?
I start moving through the park, my eyes scanning every bench, every corner, every tree. The morning fog clings to the ground, making it hard to see, and my mind is racing with worst-case scenarios. What if James found her? What if someone else did?
And then, finally, I spot her.
She's sitting on the same bench where I left her yesterday, her head tilted back as she gazes up at the sky, completely unaware of the panic that's been gripping me for the past hour. Relief floods through me, so overwhelming that my legs almost give out beneath me. But there's something else too—something darker, something I can't quite shake.
She looks too peaceful. Too calm. Like she doesn't know what's coming.
"Sasha," I call out, my voice tight as I jog over to her. "Are you okay?"
She turns her head slowly, her expression serene, as if nothing in the world could possibly be wrong. "V? What's going on? You look... stressed."
"Stressed?" I almost laugh, but the sound catches in my throat. "You have no idea."
I sit down beside her, my body still humming with leftover adrenaline. I want to grab her, shake her, tell her she can't just sit here like nothing's wrong. But I don't. Instead, I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside me.
"You shouldn't be here alone," I say finally, my voice low.
Sasha tilts her head, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies me. "Alone? V, what's going on? You're acting... different."
I shake my head, trying to find the right words, but they won't come. How do I explain this to her?
How do I tell her about the darkness, about the danger that's lurking around every corner, without sounding insane?
I glance at her again, her serene expression almost mocking in its innocence. She doesn't know. She can't possibly understand what I'm feeling right now, the depth of fear and urgency clawing at me. How could she? She hasn't seen the things I've seen. She hasn't felt the weight of the passenger that shares my mind, the constant push and pull of control, manipulation, and guilt.
"Something happened," I begin, my voice tight and controlled, "to someone I care about. She got hurt because I wasn't paying attention. I can't let that happen to you."
Sasha's eyebrows furrow slightly, concern flickering across her face. "Who got hurt? What happened?"
I hesitate, the memory of Lucy's battered body flashing in my mind. It would be easy to tell Sasha, to lean on her sympathy, to let her wrap herself around me in comfort. But there's no place for vulnerability here. Not with her. I can't let her get too close, can't let her see too much.
"It doesn't matter who," I say, my tone harsher than I intended. "What matters is that you're not safe here. There are people—dangerous people—who would do terrible things to you if they had the chance."
Her eyes widen slightly, and she looks around the park, as if expecting to see shadows lurking behind the trees. I can see her mind working, trying to piece together what I'm saying, but she doesn't have the full picture. She doesn't know about James, about Lucy, about the predator that's still out there, waiting.
"But... why would anyone want to hurt me?" Sasha asks, her voice shaky.
I stare at her for a moment, torn between the desire to protect her and the need to keep her at arm's length. "Because bad things happen to good people all the time, Sasha. It doesn't matter why. It just happens."
She looks down at her hands, her fingers twisting together in her lap. For the first time since I met her, she looks genuinely afraid, and the sight of it sends a pang of guilt through me. I did this. I dragged her into my world, into my orbit, and now she's caught in the web of danger and deception that surrounds me.
"I didn't mean to scare you," I say, my voice softer now. "I just need you to understand that you're not as safe as you think you are."
Sasha is quiet for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the ground. When she finally speaks, her voice is barely a whisper. "Why do you care so much, V? You hardly know me."
I open my mouth to respond, but the words stick in my throat. Why do I care? I've asked myself that same question more times than I can count, and I still don't have an answer. Maybe it's because she reminds me of someone I used to know, someone who was taken from me before I could do anything to stop it. Or maybe it's because, for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can be something more than the manipulative, calculating person I've become. With Sasha, there's a chance for something different, something real.
But even as I think it, I know that's a lie. I don't get to have that. Not with the passenger still lurking inside me, waiting for its chance to take control. Not with the darkness always threatening to swallow me whole.
"I just do," I say finally, my voice rough. "That's all you need to know."
Sasha looks up at me, her eyes searching mine as if she's trying to figure out what I'm hiding. But I keep my face neutral, my expression carefully controlled. She can't know. She can't ever know the truth.
"Okay," she says after a moment, her voice barely above a whisper. "But what do we do now?"
I lean back on the bench, running a hand through my hair as I try to think. The urgency of the situation is still pressing down on me, but there's also something else now—something more personal. I have to protect Sasha, not just because of the danger she's in, but because of the way she's gotten under my skin in a way I never expected.
"We need to get you somewhere safe," I say, my mind already working through the possibilities. "Somewhere where no one can find you."
Sasha frowns. "What about you? What about your classes? Your life?"
"I'll figure it out," I say quickly, dismissively. "That's not important right now. What's important is keeping you safe."
"But—"
"Sasha," I interrupt, my voice sharp. "You don't understand. This isn't just about me. It's not about school or classes or anything else. This is about keeping you alive."
The words hang in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. Sasha looks at me, her eyes wide and filled with uncertainty, and for a moment, I wonder if she's going to fight me on this. But then she nods, her shoulders slumping in resignation.
"Okay," she says softly. "I'll do whatever you think is best."
Relief floods through me, but it's quickly followed by something else—something darker. I don't deserve her trust. I don't deserve the way she's looking at me, like I'm her protector, her savior. I'm not that person. I'm the one who brought her into this mess in the first place.
But I don't have time to dwell on that now. There's too much at stake, and I can't afford to let my own guilt and self-loathing get in the way.
"We need to go now," I say, standing up and offering her my hand. "The longer we stay here, the more dangerous it gets."
Sasha hesitates for only a moment before she takes my hand, her fingers cool and delicate in mine. I help her to her feet, and together we start walking toward the edge of the park, my mind racing with plans, contingencies, and worst-case scenarios.
As we walk, I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched, that there are eyes on us, hidden in the shadows. I glance around, my senses on high alert, but there's nothing out of the ordinary. Still, the feeling lingers, a cold knot of dread twisting in my gut.
I tighten my grip on Sasha's hand, pulling her closer to me as we move through the park, my eyes scanning the area for any sign of danger. I won't let anything happen to her. Not after everything that's already happened. Not after what I've already lost.
But even as I make that silent vow, I can feel the passenger stirring in the back of my mind, whispering dark, insidious thoughts. It's hungry, restless, waiting for its chance to take control. And I know that sooner or later, I won't be able to keep it at bay. Sooner or later, it will take over, and when it does, I don't know if I'll be able to stop it.
But for now, I push those thoughts away. I focus on Sasha, on getting her to safety, on keeping her alive. That's all that matters.
And as we step out of the park and into the busy streets beyond, I can't help but wonder how much longer I'll be able to protect her—and how much longer I'll be able to protect myself.