Trust Rebuilt
Alex sat by the fire, staring into the flickering flames, her mind a million miles away. The camp was quiet now, the chaos of the earlier ambush just a memory, but the tension in her body hadn't eased. Every muscle felt like a coiled spring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. She hadn't slept since the night she killed Claire. The memory of it haunted her, replaying over and over again in her mind—Claire's eyes, wide with shock, the way the blood had stained her hands.
She tried to remind herself that Claire had betrayed them, that she'd had no choice, but it didn't matter. It didn't erase the guilt or the weight pressing down on her chest.
Across the camp, the others moved about in silence, too drained to talk. Some of them cast glances her way—some curious, some respectful, but others still filled with distrust. The traitor was gone, but the scars she left behind were still raw. It would take time for them to heal, if they ever did.
Ethan approached her quietly, his footsteps soft on the dirt. She didn't turn to look at him, but she felt his presence, steady and unshakable. He had been her anchor since that night, and though she appreciated it, part of her hated it too. She didn't want to be someone who needed saving, someone who relied on others to stay afloat.
"You okay?" Ethan's voice was low, careful, as if he knew how fragile she felt right now.
Alex didn't answer at first. She wasn't sure she could. She wasn't even sure what "okay" was supposed to feel like anymore. After a long pause, she sighed. "I don't know."
Ethan sat down next to her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. It was a simple gesture, but the contact felt grounding, even though it made her wary. She didn't know how to let herself lean on him without losing control. She wasn't ready to let anyone in fully—not after everything that had happened.
"I don't blame you, you know," Ethan said quietly, looking at the fire instead of her. "For what happened with Claire. You did what you had to."
His words hung in the air, offering comfort, but Alex couldn't take them at face value. Deep down, there was still that seed of doubt. She hadn't forgotten the hesitation in Ethan's eyes before. Back when Claire had accused her, Ethan hadn't been the first to defend her. That hesitation still stung, even if he hadn't voiced it.
"I know what you're trying to say," Alex finally replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I saw the look on your face when she accused me. You weren't sure. You doubted me."
Ethan's expression shifted, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. He opened his mouth to protest, to say something, but Alex cut him off.
"I get it, Ethan," she said, her tone sharper than she intended. "You had every reason to doubt me. I wasn't exactly innocent. But if you're going to tell me that you didn't hesitate… don't. I saw it."
Silence stretched between them, the crackling of the fire filling the gap where words should have been. Ethan ran a hand through his hair, his brows furrowed in frustration, but he didn't try to deny it. He didn't make excuses. And for that, Alex was grateful.
"You're right," Ethan said after a long pause. "I did hesitate. And I'm sorry for that. But I don't doubt you now, Alex. Not anymore."
His words were earnest, and the sincerity in his voice made her chest tighten. She wanted to believe him, to trust him fully, but trust was a fragile thing. Once broken, it was hard to piece back together. She had learned that the hard way.
Alex stared into the fire, struggling with her emotions. Ethan had been there for her when she needed him most, and she knew that counted for something. But there was a wall between them now, built from the doubts and fears she couldn't shake.
"I don't know if I can do this," she admitted, her voice cracking. "I don't know if I can trust anyone anymore. Not after everything."
Ethan didn't say anything for a moment, and Alex wondered if she'd pushed him away for good. But then he reached out, his hand gently brushing hers, a tentative gesture that sent a shiver through her. He wasn't forcing her, wasn't pushing her to open up. He was just… there.
"You don't have to trust me completely, not right now," Ethan said softly. "But I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here when you're ready."
His words, simple as they were, made something inside Alex crack. She turned her head to look at him, really look at him for the first time since the ambush. His eyes were steady, filled with something she hadn't expected—understanding, patience. There was no judgment, no pressure, just quiet support.
For the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of hope. Maybe trust wasn't something she had to rebuild all at once. Maybe it was something that could be mended slowly, one piece at a time.
"I'm not used to this," Alex said, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm not used to needing anyone."
Ethan smiled, but it was a sad smile, filled with the weight of everything they had been through. "Neither am I. But maybe we don't have to do this alone."
The words hung between them, and for the first time, Alex allowed herself to consider that maybe, just maybe, she didn't have to carry all of this on her own. The weight of the group's distrust, the burden of survival, the guilt of her first kill—maybe she didn't have to bear it all alone.
She let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease, just a little. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
"Thanks," she whispered, barely audible. But Ethan heard it, and he nodded, his expression softening.
The night stretched on, the fire slowly dying down to embers. The rest of the camp had settled into a fitful sleep, unaware of the quiet exchange between Alex and Ethan. But for the first time in what felt like forever, Alex didn't feel completely alone. She wasn't sure if she was ready to fully trust again, but maybe that was okay. Maybe, with time, she could learn how to rebuild.
And maybe Ethan would be there to help her.