TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains physical violence and abuse, threats of sexual violence, graphic injury and blood, self-harm (carving into the skin), emotional distress and panic, restraint and powerlessness, as well as trauma and fear.
Please read at your own risk, and remember that it's okay to stop reading or skip this chapter if any of these topics are sensitive to you. Your well-being is important, and you should never feel obligated to push through anything that feels overwhelming.
Freya's POV
"Esme, wake up," I whispered, gently shaking her by the shoulder.
"Huh—what's going on?" Esme groaned, her voice raspy from the coughing fit that had plagued her for days. Her words were laced with exhaustion, but she forced her eyes open, blinking up at me in confusion.
"I got the remaining 1200 we needed for 5k," I whispered, unable to keep the wide grin off my face.
Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment as if trying to process what I'd just said. She stretched her arms sluggishly, wincing slightly before sitting up. "How did you do it?" she whispered, her voice soft but curious.
"It doesn't matter," I replied quickly, brushing off the question. I reached into my jacket and pulled out a roll of cash, the bills neatly stacked and bound. "I got a total of 2000 bucks, but I want you to have the rest—800."
Esme blinked, her tired eyes widening in disbelief as I placed the cash in her palm. Before she could say anything, I closed her fingers around it and gave her hand a firm squeeze.
"You deserve it," I added, my voice soft but resolute.
Her lips parted, as though she wanted to argue, but she couldn't find the words. Instead, her gaze flickered between the money in her hand and my face, tears welling in her eyes.
"Freya...I can't—"
"Yes, you can," I cut her off gently. "You've been through enough, Esme. Take it. Use it for yourself, for what you need. Don't argue with me."
Her hand trembled slightly, but she didn't let go of the cash. Instead, she let out a shaky breath, a single tear slipping down her cheek.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her gratitude.
Before saying anything else, Esme pulled me into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around me like a lifeline. The sweet, familiar scent of her clung to the air between us, filling my senses and grounding me in the moment. It was comforting in a way I hadn't expected, a fleeting sense of peace amidst the chaos that had become our lives.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. I just let myself sink into the warmth of her embrace, the steady rhythm of her breathing soothing the whirlwind in my mind.
After what felt like forever, I gently pulled back, resting my hands on her shoulders. "How are you feeling?" I asked, my voice softer now, though the worry was impossible to hide.
Esme gave me a small, tired smile. "Better than yesterday," she replied, though the rasp in her voice betrayed her. "Still feels like my lungs are full of gravel, but...I'm okay."
I frowned, my eyes scanning her face. The dark circles under her eyes and the way her frame seemed so frail told a different story. "You don't sound okay," I murmured, brushing a strand of her hair out of her face.
She sighed, leaning back against the wall. "Freya, I'm alive. That's more than I could say a few weeks ago. Don't worry about me, alright? You've already done more than enough."
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"A Flame that Fades"
Fantasy* WARNING: * * The following story contains ; * Manipulation, neglect, mental- and phycial abuse, sexual assult, sexual harrasment, sexual exploitation, psychological trauma, objectification and dehumanization, powerlessness and loss of control, hu...
