The morning after their kiss, Evelyn felt a strange combination of elation and dread. The memory of Colby's lips on hers was still fresh, but with it came the gnawing fear that this fragile connection could be ripped away at any moment. In a place like this, nothing good ever lasted long. And Colby... Colby was too raw, too broken, just like her.
As she sat in the common room, her thoughts a tangled mess, she noticed him across the room. Colby was hunched over in one of the worn-out armchairs, his face drawn and tense. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve, and though he wasn't looking at her, Evelyn knew something was wrong.
A nurse passed by, a tray of medication in her hands. Colby's eyes flicked up, his gaze following her with barely disguised hostility. Evelyn's stomach twisted—she'd seen him like this before, on the edge of something dark, something dangerous.
She had to talk to him.
Taking a deep breath, she crossed the room and sat in the chair beside him. Colby's shoulders tensed, but he didn't acknowledge her right away. She could see the storm brewing behind his eyes, the tension in his jaw as he clenched his teeth.
"Colby," she said softly, reaching out to place her hand on his arm. His muscles were tight under her touch, his body radiating with pent-up energy. "What's going on?"
He finally turned to her, and the intensity of his gaze took her breath away. "They upped my meds," he muttered, his voice barely above a growl. "I don't need them, but they don't care. They just want to keep us numb."
Evelyn felt a cold chill run through her. She knew all too well the feeling of losing control over your own mind, of being forced into a fog by the endless pills. "What are you going to do?" she asked, her voice small, fear creeping into her chest.
Colby looked away, his jaw tightening. "I don't know. But I'm not letting them turn me into a zombie."
Her heart pounded in her chest. "Please, Colby," she whispered, leaning in closer, her hand tightening on his arm. "Don't do anything reckless."
His eyes flicked back to her, and for a moment, she saw something soft, something vulnerable. But then it was gone, replaced by a wall of anger and frustration. "I can't stay in this place, Ev. It's killing me."
She swallowed hard, her own anxiety rising. She wanted to help him, wanted to be his anchor, but the weight of the situation was pressing down on her. What could she do? They were both trapped here, caught in a system that cared more about control than healing.
Before she could say anything more, the door to the common room opened, and Dr. Morgan walked in. She was one of the psychiatrists on staff, always dressed in her pristine white coat, her sharp eyes taking in everything around her. Evelyn's pulse quickened when she saw Dr. Morgan's gaze land on Colby, narrowing slightly.
Colby noticed too. His body stiffened, his hand curling into a fist on his knee.
"Colby," Dr. Morgan's voice was calm but authoritative, cutting through the tension in the room. "I need to see you in my office."
He didn't move.
"Now."
Evelyn's grip tightened on his arm, silently begging him not to escalate things. But Colby's jaw clenched even harder, his eyes flashing with defiance. For a brief moment, she thought he might refuse, might do something reckless, something that would only make everything worse.
But then, with a frustrated growl, Colby stood up, pulling his arm out of her grasp. Without another word, he stalked out of the room, following Dr. Morgan into the hallway. Evelyn watched them go, her heart sinking.
She could feel it—the walls around them closing in.
Hours passed, and Colby still hadn't returned. Evelyn's mind raced with worry, each second feeling like an eternity. She tried to keep herself busy, but nothing could distract her from the gnawing fear that something had gone terribly wrong.
It wasn't until late in the afternoon that she finally saw him again. He stumbled into the common room, his movements sluggish, his eyes glazed over. The sight of him made her stomach drop—he looked like a ghost of himself, his usual intensity dulled into a lifeless blankness.
"Colby," she whispered, rushing to his side. She grabbed his arm, trying to steady him, but he barely responded. "What did they do to you?"
"They... increased the dosage," he mumbled, his voice flat, disconnected. "Didn't give me a choice."
Tears stung her eyes as she looked at him, helplessness crashing over her in waves. This wasn't Colby. This was a shell, a puppet controlled by the drugs they'd forced into him.
"Why didn't you fight them?" she whispered, her voice breaking.
Colby's head lolled to the side, and for a brief moment, he seemed to focus on her, a flicker of his old self breaking through the haze. "Because... I'm tired, Ev," he murmured, his hand weakly reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "I'm so damn tired."
Her heart shattered at the raw vulnerability in his voice. She wanted to scream, to fight, to tear down the walls of this place and get him out. But she was powerless. They both were.
Without thinking, she pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly as if she could protect him from everything, from the drugs, the doctors, the asylum itself. Colby's body sagged against her, his head resting on her shoulder, and for a long time, they stayed like that—two broken people clinging to each other in the middle of a world that was slowly tearing them apart.
"I won't let them do this to you," she whispered fiercely, her fingers threading through his hair. "I'll find a way. I promise."
Colby didn't respond. His breathing had slowed, his body heavy in her arms as the medication pulled him deeper into its grip. But even in his silence, Evelyn could feel the bond between them, the desperate need to survive this place together.
And in that moment, she knew one thing for certain: she would do whatever it took to save him. No matter the cost.
