The light was soft, muted, and far too gentle for the chaos that churned inside Emily. It barely cut through the blinds, leaving her room wrapped in a stillness that felt too heavy. A quiet kind of oppressive. She sat on the edge of her bed, her legs crossed beneath her, arms hugging her knees tightly as though she could hold herself together that way.
Her phone sat on the nightstand, untouched, and yet it felt like it was pressing down on her. There were messages, texts she hadn't read, missed calls, but none from George. She hadn't been able to talk to him all day, not since she'd sent that vague message to her boss, letting them know she wouldn't make it in.
*"Not feeling well."* It had seemed so simple when she typed it. But now, the weight of it felt wrong. She had never wanted to sound weak, never wanted to admit that something more than just a sick day was keeping her in bed. But the nightmares... they weren't just dreams anymore. They were real. Too real.
The terrifying images wouldn't leave her, no matter how much she tried to bury them. The giant's footsteps, the way the ground shook under its weight, the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears as she ran. Even now, her chest tightened at the thought.
She couldn't keep it in. Not anymore. Her throat was raw with the weight of things she hadn't said. Not to anyone. But George... George would understand, wouldn't he? He always did. He was the kind of person who knew how to listen when the words got tangled in your head.
Her hand hovered over the phone. She stared at it for a long moment, fighting the urge to call him, to ask for help.
And then, with a small, shaky breath, she dialed his number.
It rang twice before he answered, and when his voice came through, the comfort it brought was almost immediate.
"Em?" George's voice was warm, but there was a crack of worry in it, a tone she hadn't missed. "What's going on? You alright?"
Emily opened her mouth to respond but found that her throat was too tight, and the words were too hard to get out. She sucked in a breath, willing herself to hold it together long enough to speak. But once she started, the floodgates opened.
"I'm not okay, George," she whispered, the words slipping out, soft but so heavy with everything she hadn't said. "Something's wrong. Something's... so wrong."
There was a pause, just long enough that she wondered if he had heard her at all. And then, his voice, gentle but full of care, broke the silence.
"Hey, hey, it's alright," he said, softening the edge of her fear. "What happened? You can tell me. I'm here."
Her voice faltered, but she had to keep going. "I saw something... something horrible. A... a giant, George. I know it sounds insane, but I swear it was real. I could feel the ground shaking under its footsteps, and I—I thought I was going to die. I thought it was going to crush me."
George's voice was steady, calm. But she could hear the way his breath caught on the other end of the line. He was listening. Really listening. Not dismissing her. Not making light of it.
"A giant?" he repeated, and there was no hint of mockery, no disbelief. Just care. "Okay. Tell me more. What happened?"
Emily took a breath, trying to find the words. It wasn't easy. It never was, especially when everything felt like it was slipping out of her grasp. "It was huge, George. Like, it filled the whole sky. Its footsteps were so loud I could feel them in my chest. I thought I could escape, I ran... but it followed me. I—I couldn't stop it."
George's response was quiet for a moment, and she could tell he was thinking. He wasn't brushing it off. He was processing. And that made it hurt more somehow. The rawness of it was overwhelming.
"Em, I'm so sorry," he said, his voice low but full of compassion. "I can't even begin to imagine how terrifying that must have been. But I need you to know something. You're not crazy. You're not losing your mind, alright? Whatever this is, we'll figure it out. Together."
The weight of his words hit her like a wave. The gentleness. The way he said "together" made her feel like maybe she wasn't so alone in all of this.
"I don't know how to make it stop," she admitted, the words a confession. "I thought it was over when I woke up. But the memory, it's still here. It's like it's following me like it's waiting for me." Her voice trembled. "I can't get rid of it."
For a moment, the silence stretched between them. Then, George spoke, softer now. "Emily... you don't have to fight this on your own. You don't have to have all the answers right now. You're not alone in this, okay?"
His words wrapped around her like a blanket. She could almost picture him on the other side of the phone, his face kind and steady. And for a moment, she allowed herself to lean into it, to believe that maybe, just maybe, it could be okay.
"I just—" She hesitated, wiping the tears that had started to fall without her noticing. "I don't know what's real anymore, George. I can't trust my own mind."
"Hey," he said gently, "it's okay. You don't have to figure this out all at once. Whatever's going on, we'll work through it, step by step. You're not alone. I'm not going anywhere."
A lump formed in her throat. She wanted to believe him, she really did. But the weight of what she was going through, the constant fear of something lurking just out of sight—it was almost too much. She felt as though she were falling apart at the seams.
"I don't want to drag you down with this," she whispered, barely hearing her own voice. "I don't want you to feel like you have to fix me."
"Emily," George's voice softened, but there was an undeniable firmness to it now. "You're not dragging me down. I'm here because I care about you. I care about you more than I can say. And I'm not going anywhere. I won't let you go through this alone."
His words hit her like a tidal wave, and for a second, she couldn't breathe. Not because she was suffocating, but because she could feel the weight of his promise. The sincerity in his voice was more than just reassurance—it was a vow. A promise that he wasn't going to let go.
"I... I can't lose you too, George," she choked out, her voice cracking. "Not after everything."
There was a long pause, a silence so thick it felt like it could swallow them whole. Then, quietly, George responded, "You won't lose me. Never. You've been there for me through everything. I'm here for you. Always."
The raw honesty in his voice made Emily's heartache. She wasn't alone. She wasn't invisible. She was seen.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "I don't think I could handle it."
"You don't have to," George said, a slight chuckle in his voice now, as though trying to lighten the heavy air between them. "I'm not going anywhere, Em. I'm right here, okay? And we'll get through this together."
Emily felt the weight of the words settle in her chest, filling her with a sense of comfort she hadn't known she needed. She wasn't alone. Not anymore. She didn't have to carry this on her own.
"Thanks, George," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Really. I don't know what I'd do without you."
There was a softness in his voice when he spoke again. "You'll never have to find out. I'm not going anywhere."
They stayed on the phone for a while longer, neither of them saying much, just the quiet comfort of knowing the other was there. For the first time in a long time, Emily felt like maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as lost as she thought.
The world outside her window hadn't changed. But in that moment, with George's voice steady in her ear, she felt something like hope, like maybe, just maybe, she could make it through another day.
And that was enough.