Key Story (2) - Chapter 10
The rain was relentless.
It beat against the windows like a constant, uninvited guest, the sound drowning out any sense of peace that Sable might have hoped for. The steady drumming echoed in her mind, amplifying the suffocating weight in her chest. Each drop was a reminder—a reminder that there was no escape, that the storm outside mirrored the one raging inside her. The relentless storm was both her enemy and her constant companion.
Sable sat on the edge of her bed, knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around herself, as if she could shield herself from the memories that kept clawing at her mind. The room was dark, the faint glow of the city outside barely visible through the rain-streaked windows. She had turned off all the lights, wanting to disappear into the shadows, to become as small and insignificant as possible. Alone. Hidden.
But even in the darkness, she couldn't escape.
Every time she closed her eyes, Lynx's face was there, leering at her with that twisted smirk, his cruel green eyes locking onto her as if she were a plaything. She could still feel the cold touch of his fingers on her chin, the way he'd forced her to meet his gaze, the way his nails had dug into her skin. Her heart raced in response, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her skin crawled, and she couldn't shake the sensation, no matter how tightly she hugged herself.
"You're different," his voice echoed in her mind, soft, mocking. "You don't break like the others."
Her stomach twisted violently at the memory. She had wanted to scream, to fight, to tear herself free, but she couldn't. She was trapped—helpless—bound by ropes and fear. The cold, damp air of that room clung to her, seeping into her bones, making her feel like she was drowning in it.
And now, even here, in her own room, she couldn't shake that feeling.
The walls felt like they were closing in on her, the darkness pressing against her chest, suffocating her. The rain hammered harder against the windows, as if trying to force its way in. Sable's fingers clenched, her nails digging into her palms, trying to ground herself, but the fear clawed its way deeper into her heart. She couldn't control it.
What if he comes back?
The thought sliced through her, sharp and cold. Her eyes darted to the corners of the room, as if Lynx could be lurking there, waiting. She knew it wasn't rational. She knew Lynx was gone. Raxian had saved her. Her father had found her. She was safe.
But was she?
Her pulse pounded in her ears, louder than the rain. The shadows in the room seemed to shift, to take on shapes that weren't there. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block them out, but that only made the memories clearer, more vivid. The darkness wasn't just in her room—it was inside her, seeping into every thought, every breath.
Lynx had gotten into her head. He had dug in deep, planting seeds of doubt, fear, and helplessness. And now, even though he was gone, he still had power over her.
You're right where I want you.
His words echoed in her mind, that sickening smirk playing on his lips. He had known, even then, how deeply he was breaking her. And now, she was shattered. She could feel it—pieces of herself slipping away, scattering like glass shards on the floor. She wasn't whole anymore.
I'm not the same.
The thought was cold, stark, and terrifying. She wasn't the girl she used to be. The strong, confident Sable who had always stood tall, who had challenged the world with fierce determination—she was gone. In her place was this fragile shell, this broken thing that trembled at every shadow, that couldn't even breathe without feeling the weight of fear pressing down on her chest.
Her breath hitched, and she pressed her forehead against her knees, trying to calm herself, but the storm inside was growing. The rain outside pounded harder, a deafening roar that made her heart race even faster. It felt like the walls were closing in, the shadows growing darker, more suffocating.
I can't breathe.
Her throat tightened, panic clawing at her. She could feel the rope again—tight around her wrists, cutting into her skin, burning. Her fingers twitched, as if they were still bound, still helpless. She had pulled so hard against the restraints, the pain had been sharp, but she hadn't cared. She would have done anything to escape. But there had been no escape.
You're mine now.
Lynx's voice was a low, dark whisper in the back of her mind, threading its way through her thoughts, poisoning everything. She could still feel his breath on her skin, the cold air of the room mixing with the heat of his twisted gaze. He had watched her so closely, so intensely, as if he was studying her, waiting for the moment she would finally break.
And she had broken.
Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She wouldn't cry for him. She wouldn't give him that. But the fear, the helplessness—it was too much. It was suffocating her, dragging her down into the darkness, and no matter how hard she fought against it, she couldn't get free.
Her chest tightened, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the panic surged. The shadows seemed to move again, shifting, taking on the shape of him—of Lynx—looming in the corners of her vision, waiting to pounce, to take her back. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was still out there, still watching, waiting for his chance to finish what he'd started.
The rain outside was deafening now, a roar that filled her ears, her mind. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe.
He's going to come back.
The thought was a scream in her mind, tearing through her fragile defenses, ripping away any sense of safety she had tried to build.
Her hands shook as she pressed them harder against her knees, trying to ground herself, to hold on to something—anything—but it felt like the ground was slipping away beneath her. She was falling, spiraling, and there was no one to catch her.
I'm all alone.
The rain pounded harder, drowning out everything else, the sound pressing in on her from all sides, suffocating her. She felt like she was drowning in it, the weight of the storm crushing her chest, her lungs. She couldn't escape it. She couldn't escape him.
Sable's eyes darted around the room again, her paranoia taking over, making her see things that weren't there. Every shadow, every flicker of light felt like a threat, like Lynx was just waiting in the dark, ready to strike again.
You're right where I want you.
His voice echoed in her head, a low, mocking whisper that made her stomach twist with nausea. She could still feel his fingers on her skin, his breath hot against her cheek. She could feel his eyes watching her, even now, even in the safety of her own room.
But was she safe? Could she ever be safe again?
The rain hammered against the windows, the storm outside growing fiercer with every passing second, and Sable felt like it was pressing in on her, suffocating her with its intensity. She couldn't escape it, just like she couldn't escape the fear, the paranoia, the memories.
And in the silence between the crashes of thunder, all she could hear was Lynx's voice, echoing in her mind, reminding her of how broken she was.
You're mine.
The words echoed in her mind, over and over, until they were all she could hear, all she could think about.
I'm not safe.
And as the rain continued to pour, as the storm outside raged on, Sable curled tighter into herself, her body trembling with the weight of everything she had been through. Lynx might have been gone, but the damage he had done was still there—deep, raw, and consuming.
And no matter how hard she fought, she couldn't outrun it.
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The rain was relentless.
It soaked through his clothes, clinging to his skin like a second layer, but Raxian barely noticed. Each step felt heavier than the last as he trudged down the deserted streets, his head bowed against the downpour. The rhythmic pounding of the rain against the pavement mirrored the pounding in his chest, a constant, unyielding pressure that refused to let up.
He had left Sable alone.
The thought gnawed at him, each repetition sinking deeper into his mind like a splinter he couldn't remove. She needed him, now more than ever, and yet he had walked away. It wasn't a choice—he had to leave, but that didn't make the guilt any easier to swallow.
His fists clenched in his pockets, the cold bite of the rain doing little to soothe the burning frustration building inside him. The walk home stretched on endlessly, each minute alone with his thoughts dragging him back through everything that had led up to this moment.
You abandoned her.
The words echoed in his mind like a mantra. He had seen it coming—the way their relationship had frayed after the winter break, the way he'd pushed her to the sidelines without even realizing it. Raxian blinked the rain from his eyes, feeling the sting of regret burn behind them. It hadn't been on purpose. He hadn't meant to neglect her, to leave her feeling like she didn't matter. But he had.
And now, Sable was paying the price.
His thoughts flickered to Fayne. The past few months had been a blur of moments spent with her, moments that had pulled him away from Sable. Fayne was easy to be around, comforting in a way that had dulled the tension he always felt with Sable. He had gravitated toward her without even thinking, and in doing so, he had let Sable slip through the cracks.
He stopped suddenly, his breath catching in his throat as a wave of anger surged through him. What the hell was wrong with him? How could he have let this happen? His foot lashed out before he could stop himself, sending a crumpled soda can flying across the slick pavement. The clang of metal against concrete rang through the empty street, but the action did nothing to release the knot of frustration tangled inside him.
Raxian pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead, trying to block out the thoughts swirling in his mind. He wanted to scream, to punch something—anything. It wasn't just that he had failed Sable in the present. He had failed her long before Lynx had ever gotten his hands on her.
If you hadn't pushed her away… if you'd paid attention, none of this would have happened.
The guilt hit him like a punch to the gut, doubling him over for a moment as he stopped under the shelter of a nearby awning. His chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath, the rain dripping from his hair and running down the back of his neck. He wasn't this guy—the one who hurt people. He wasn't the selfish bastard who let his pride get in the way, but here he was, standing in the wreckage of his own mistakes.
He had been so wrapped up in his own frustrations, so focused on his issues, that he hadn't even noticed how far Sable had drifted away. The winter break had been the last time they had truly connected, and even then, it was fleeting. After that, he had practically thrown himself into other things—Fayne being one of them—and Sable had been left behind, alone with her own thoughts, her own pain.
He could still see the look on her face from earlier in the night, that quiet devastation she carried, the way she barely held herself together. It broke him, the way she had stared at him as if he was the only thing keeping her from completely shattering. He wanted to be there for her. He had promised her that much.
But was he really? Was he capable of helping her, after everything he had already done?
The rain continued to pound around him, relentless and unyielding. He lifted his face to the sky, letting the cold water run down his cheeks like it could somehow wash away the guilt, the frustration, the anger swirling inside him. It didn't. It couldn't.
This wasn't something he could fix with a single apology. It wasn't something he could just talk his way out of. He knew that. Sable deserved more than that. She deserved someone who was there for her when it mattered—not someone who left her in the dark when she needed him most.
Raxian pushed away from the wall, his pace quickening as the rain soaked him to the bone. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except figuring out how to make this right. His confession earlier had been a selfish move—he knew that. He had been so desperate to bridge the gap between them, to give her some piece of himself, that he hadn't stopped to consider what she really needed. He had made it about himself, about his guilt, his need to be close to her again.
But this wasn't about him. This was about Sable. It had always been about Sable.
His chest tightened at the thought of her, alone in her room, battling her demons while he walked through the rain like some brooding idiot. He wanted to go back, to be there for her the way he should have been from the start, but he couldn't—not yet. She needed space, time to process everything, and he had to respect that. Even if it tore him apart to leave her alone.
But he wouldn't abandon her. Not again.
Raxian's steps slowed as he neared his apartment building, the rain beginning to ease slightly, though it still clung to the air in a misty haze. He paused at the entrance, his hand gripping the door handle but not pulling. Instead, he looked up, his reflection barely visible in the rain-slicked glass. He stared at the distorted image of himself, the person staring back barely recognizable.
He wasn't that selfish, ego-driven kid anymore. He couldn't be. Not after everything.
The thought settled deep in his chest as he finally pushed the door open and stepped inside, the warmth of the entrance doing little to chase away the cold that had seeped into his bones. He knew what he had to do. He had to help Sable recover, no matter how long it took, no matter how many mistakes he made along the way.
Because she was worth it. She always had been.
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The rain had finally stopped.
Leaving only a hollow silence in its wake. The apartment felt different now, as if the storm had taken something with it, but had left behind a heavy, suffocating stillness.
Sable stood in front of the bathroom mirror, the steam from the bath swirling around her in thick tendrils, clinging to her skin and to the glass. She hadn't stepped into the water yet. She hadn't dared. Part of her didn't want to see what was really underneath. She felt safer wrapped in the fog, in the blurred lines between reality and the storm inside her mind.
But the steam was starting to clear, and with it came the faint, haunting outline of her reflection. The person staring back at her through the mist was… unrecognizable.
She lifted a trembling hand to the mirror, fingers brushing the fogged surface, and hesitated before wiping it away. She didn't want to do this—didn't want to confront the truth of what had happened to her. But she had to. There was no running from it anymore.
When she finally cleared the glass, she was met with the full force of her reflection, and the sight of herself was like a punch to the gut.
The first thing she saw were the bruises—dark, swollen marks on her wrists where the ropes had cut into her skin. They were raw, red, gnawing reminders of how tightly she had been bound, how she had fought to break free, and how it hadn't mattered. The ropes had won. She had been powerless. Her fingers twitched involuntarily at the memory of the restraint, her skin burning where the bindings had bitten into her flesh.
Then there was her face—pale, almost ghostlike in the dim light, but marred by the faint bruise on her cheek. The spot where Lynx had grabbed her, his nails digging in as if he was marking her, branding her with his control. Her hair, still damp from the bath she hadn't stepped into, clung limply to her face, the blue streaks dull, lifeless.
Her lips quivered as she traced a finger over the bruises on her wrist, her touch so light it barely made contact, but the sensation was enough to send a fresh wave of memories crashing over her. The feeling of the ropes burning her skin, the way they had dug into her flesh with every frantic tug she made to free herself—every second she had spent trapped in that chair flashed vividly in her mind.
She swallowed hard, her throat tight, as her gaze drifted lower to the faint cuts and scrapes on her ankles. Lynx had dragged her. She could still feel the cold, hard floor beneath her as she had been pulled across it, her legs scraping against the concrete. The torn edges of her hoodie—a hoodie she had once worn with casual confidence—now hung limp around her, frayed and dirty, the checkered patterns almost mocking her with their normalcy amidst the chaos.
She hadn't just been broken physically. No—Lynx had broken something deeper inside of her, something far more fragile than skin or bone. He had shattered her sense of control, her sense of self. And now, standing here, staring at the remnants of who she used to be, Sable felt like a stranger to herself.
Her chest tightened, a deep ache spreading through her ribs as the reality of it all hit her with full force. This wasn't just a reflection. It was a reflection of everything she had lost. Of the pieces of herself she couldn't recognize anymore.
Her hand pressed against the mirror, her palm flat against the cold glass, as if she was trying to reach out to the person on the other side. But the truth was, there was no one left to reach. The person staring back at her was broken beyond recognition.
Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes stinging as tears welled up, threatening to spill over. The marks on her wrists, her ankles, her cheek—they were symbols of her powerlessness. Symbols of everything she couldn't fight against. She was still trapped, still bound, even now. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape.
The tears came slowly at first, slipping down her cheeks in quiet surrender. Her body trembled, her fingers curling into fists against the mirror as the memories of Lynx's touch—the feeling of his hand gripping her chin, forcing her to look at him—played on an endless loop in her mind. She had been so helpless, so completely powerless, and that thought alone broke her even more than the physical pain.
She couldn't do this. She couldn't face it. Not now. Not like this.
With a choked sob, she pulled her hand back from the mirror, her fingers shaking as they hovered just inches from the glass, as if she was still reaching for something she couldn't grasp.
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The rain had finally stopped.
The apartment was still, the silence pressing down on Raxian as he stepped inside. His shoes squeaked against the floor, leaving behind wet footprints as he made his way down the hallway. His parents were home—probably asleep by now—but the sense of quiet only made the emptiness feel heavier. He was alone in this.
Each step up the stairs felt sluggish, his body weighed down not just by the rain but by the thoughts swirling in his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling of how distant everything had become—the gap between him and Sable widening, even after his confession. The weight of his soaked clothes clung to him like the guilt that had been building all night.
I messed up. The thought kept cycling through his head, biting deeper with every step. He should have said more, done more—anything to make Sable understand that he wasn't going to leave her side again. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how useless his words must have seemed to her. Actions spoke louder, didn't they? But what if it wasn't enough?
The familiar creak of the bathroom door sounded louder in the quiet house as he pushed it open. The steam from a lingering hot shower earlier still clung to the air, making the mirror foggy. Raxian stared at his reflection—blurred and distorted, much like the mess inside his head. He reached up, wiping a hand across the glass to clear it.
The face staring back at him wasn't someone he recognized. He felt like a stranger. His usually sharp features were softened by exhaustion, his golden eyes dull, filled with frustration and regret. His hair, still damp from the rain, stuck to his forehead, making him look more disheveled than he ever allowed himself to be. But that wasn't what bothered him. It was the look in his own eyes.
For a moment, he felt a surge of anger rise in his chest. How could I have let things get so bad? His mind flashed to every moment leading up to the kidnapping, every choice he had made—especially those with Fayne. He had neglected Sable. Even after the winter break, when she had opened up to him, he still drifted away. What the hell was wrong with me?
His fist clenched at his side, his knuckles white. The urge to punch the mirror flickered through his thoughts, but he restrained himself, though just barely. Instead, he gritted his teeth, his reflection glaring back at him as if it was mocking him. You're the reason this happened. You should've been there. You failed her.
He wanted to punish himself, to lash out—to make the pain go away—but it wouldn't solve anything. Not this time.
His eyes flicked down to his knuckles, the skin raw and reddened. From when I found her… The thought of Lynx touching Sable—the image of him standing too close, smirking as though he had won—made Raxian's blood boil. He had hit more than one wall since then, but the anger wouldn't leave him. It was a slow burn, simmering under the surface, ready to explode.
Sable had been right to push him away. He had let her down. He had drifted toward Fayne, let himself get lost in whatever was happening between them, and he didn't realize what that was costing him with Sable until it was too late.
I have to fix this. His hand gripped the edge of the sink as if he could hold onto that resolve and not let it slip away. I will fix this.
But for now, all he could do was stand in the silence, the faint trickle of water from the shower head reminding him of the rain outside—a storm that had passed but left everything soaked in its wake. Just like his mistakes.
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The rain had finally stopped, but Sable's world still felt submerged. The soft, distant hum of water trickling through the pipes was the only sound that echoed through the apartment, muffled and faint. She stood at the edge of the bathtub, staring down at the water, steam rising in gentle waves. It should have felt inviting—a warm embrace to soothe her aching muscles, to wash away the grime clinging to her skin. But the longer she stared, the more the water seemed like a vast, endless void.
Her fingers trembled as she gripped the rim of the tub, her knuckles white. She knew she needed to step in, to let the water cleanse her. Maybe it was what she needed, right? To just relax, to let the memories slip away with the suds. To finally wash off the blood, the dirt, the weight of it all.
But her body wouldn't listen.
Taking a breath, Sable slowly slid one foot into the water, the warmth seeping through her skin like a foreign sensation. For a second, her breath hitched, her body twitching involuntarily. It was supposed to be comforting—wasn't it? But as she lowered herself into the bath, it felt as though the water was rising, creeping up her legs, her waist, her chest. Suffocating.
The rain had stopped outside, but in here—inside her mind—the storm hadn't left. It was still raging, flooding every corner of her thoughts, and even though she was submerged in warm water, it felt cold. Too cold.
She lay back, her head barely touching the edge of the tub, her body half-floating, the water lapping at her skin. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. She tried to relax, tried to let herself sink into the warmth, but every muscle in her body was rigid, tensed as if waiting for the inevitable.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and suddenly, it wasn't the bath anymore. She was back there—in the dark, damp room, her wrists bound, the cold sting of the ropes gnawing at her skin. She could hear the sound of the latch turning, the drip of water in the distance, the suffocating silence that pressed in on her.
Her heart pounded faster, and she flinched, her body jolting as if trying to escape an invisible grip. Her wrists throbbed with phantom pain. Her chest felt heavy, like the weight of the water was pulling her under.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was still drowning.
The water in the bath felt like it was rising, climbing higher over her body, closing in around her neck. Her breath hitched as she opened her eyes, gasping for air that wasn't there. Panic clawed at her chest. She couldn't breathe—why couldn't she breathe?
She pressed her hands against the sides of the tub, forcing herself upright, but the water clung to her, dragging her back. Her reflection stared back at her from the rippling surface, distorted and twisted, unrecognizable.
Her fingers gripped the edge, her knuckles turning white again. She blinked, trying to focus, trying to see herself clearly. But all she could see were the marks—faint bruises on her wrists, the raw red lines where the ropes had bitten into her skin. The wounds on her cheek, the scratches on her arms. Each one a memory. Each one a reminder.
She was still trapped. Still bound.
The bathwater wasn't just water anymore. It was everything she couldn't escape. The memories. The pain. The fear.
Her breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, and she felt her heart race, her pulse throbbing in her temples. It was like the water was suffocating her, wrapping around her throat, pulling her deeper and deeper into the abyss.
And then, in the hollow silence of the bathroom, it hit her.
She was drowning.
Even though she was out of the rain, out of the storm, it hadn't left her. The rain was inside her. It was in her lungs, in her chest, filling her until there was no room left for air, for anything else.
The rain was drowning her.
And there was nothing she could do to stop it.
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The rain had finally stopped. Raxian stepped into the shower, the warm water hitting his skin with a force that barely registered. His body felt numb, but his mind was racing—flooded with guilt, frustration, and a hollowness that left him aching. He leaned forward, resting his head against the cool tiles, letting the water cascade down his back, but no amount of heat or pressure could wash away the emptiness gnawing at him from within.
He felt empty without her.
The moments with Sable played on a loop in his mind, each memory more painful than the last. She was still out there, fighting her own battle, and he wasn't there by her side. How could he leave her alone like that, knowing the storm she was going through? How could he keep living his life, attending school, doing the things that once mattered to him—when she wasn't okay?
Guilt twisted deep in his gut, but it wasn't just guilt. It was anger. Hatred, even—directed at himself. He had pushed her away for so long, left her on the sidelines while he chased after things that felt meaningless now. Now, he had confessed, but it was too late. His words might have come from the heart, but the damage was already done. He had abandoned her once, and now he was doing it again—walking away from her pain, leaving her to fight her demons alone.
He slammed his fist against the wall, the sound of the impact swallowed by the rush of water. His knuckles throbbed, but it didn't matter. The physical pain was nothing compared to what he felt inside. He hated this—hated feeling so powerless, hated that he couldn't fix things. Hated that he couldn't be the person she needed him to be. He had always been able to fix things, to power through obstacles with sheer will, but this... this was something he couldn't control.
And the worst part? The emptiness that gnawed at him. The aching void where Sable's presence used to be. He had felt it when she was taken, that gut-wrenching fear, that raw pain of losing her. But now, even with her back, that emptiness persisted. She wasn't really with him, not yet. And every step he took away from her felt like he was leaving her in the dust again, even though he swore to himself he wouldn't.
He clenched his jaw, trying to keep the frustration and guilt from consuming him entirely, but it was useless. The water pounded against him, but all he felt was the suffocating weight of failure. He had promised to save her, to stay by her side. Yet here he was, symbolically walking away, going home while she was still drowning in her pain.
The guilt, the self-hatred, the emptiness—it was too much. He felt like he was drowning in it all. The water couldn't wash away what he was feeling, couldn't silence the storm inside of him.
He closed his eyes, letting the water run down his face, and for a moment, he let himself feel everything. The guilt. The anger. The emptiness. He let it all wash over him, consuming him like the relentless rain that had followed him home.
But underneath it all, one thought burned brighter than the rest—he couldn't leave her like this. No matter how empty he felt, no matter how much he hated himself for the past, he wouldn't abandon her again. He couldn't.
Raxian's chest tightened as he opened his eyes, the water still pouring over him. He wasn't going to give up. No matter how much it hurt. No matter how hard it was. He'd fight for her—fight for them—until he didn't have anything left.