1999

12. Lockdown

A few minutes later, the sterile air of the hospital room was filled with the soft hum of machines, a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded hours earlier. Y/n lay back against the pillows, her breathing finally steady, and her tears dried. A nurse, middle-aged with kind eyes, wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Y/n's arm, the velcro tearing slightly as it was secured.

Klaus sat beside her, his hand gently enveloping hers. His touch was warm, grounding Y/n in the present. She could feel the faint tremor in his fingers, evidence of the worry that had coursed through him since he found her. But now, they were both here, together, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Y/n felt a fragile sense of peace.

The nurse smiled as she finished her work, the cuff deflating with a soft hiss. "Your blood pressure is perfect," she said, her tone reassuring. "You're in good health overall, considering everything you've been through."

Y/n nodded, her eyes dull as she listened to the nurse's words. Her gaze drifted down to her thigh, where a bandage covered the fresh wound that would forever mark her. The nurse followed her eyes and sighed softly, a hint of sympathy in her expression. "The cuts on your thigh will heal, but they will scar, unfortunately."

Y/n's heart sank as the nurse gently lifted the bandage, revealing the deep carvings in her skin. The letters of Five's name stood out, cruel and precise, each one a reminder of his obsession. It wasn't just his name. It was a claim. You're mine. No one can take you away from me. The memory of his voice, the way he had whispered those words, sent a shiver down her spine.

She was his. The thought made her stomach twist with a mixture of fear and despair. Even here, in this hospital room where she was supposed to be safe, the reality of Five's hold on her lingered. She felt as though his hands were still on her, his presence looming in every shadow.

Klaus noticed the way her body tensed, how her eyes lingered too long on the scar. He tightened his grip on her hand and leaned in closer, his voice soft yet steady. "You know," he began, trying to pull her out of the dark thoughts swirling in her mind, "once it heals, you can always get a tattoo over it."

Y/n glanced up at him, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion. "A tattoo?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Klaus nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, something beautiful, something that's yours. You don't have to let this be the last word, Y/n. You can take that power back. Make it something you want to see every day, instead of something that haunts you."

The idea of reclaiming her body, of turning this ugly scar into something meaningful, something that was hers, struck a chord within Y/n. She hadn't thought about it like that before. The scars felt like a permanent brand, a reminder of her trauma. But Klaus was offering her a way to rewrite that narrative, to take control in a situation where she had felt utterly powerless.

As the nurse left the room, closing the door softly behind her, a comforting silence settled in. Y/n lay back against the pillows, her hand still intertwined with Klaus's. The harsh fluorescent lighting of the hospital room buzzed quietly, but the tension of the night was finally beginning to ease. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Y/n could breathe without the weight of fear pressing down on her chest. The relentless chaos that had consumed her world was finally ebbing, leaving her exhausted but alive.

Klaus, sitting beside her, was a steady presence, his grip gentle but reassuring. The exhaustion was evident in his eyes too, but there was something else there—a deep sadness, a mourning for what had been lost, and perhaps for what could never be reclaimed. He kept his gaze on her, watching her process everything, waiting for her to speak. He knew the questions would come; he'd been expecting them.