Haven't Seen The Light In A While

Chapter Thirty

Vince

Melody was gone.

Not physically—his body was still there, curled in the corner of our bedroom like something fragile and feral and fractured—but he wasn't. His eyes were wide, glassy, staring at nothing. He was rocking hard enough to make the floorboards creak, mumbling under his breath like some broken record we couldn't stop or rewind.

"No no no no no no no—"

My hands were clenched at my sides. My jaw ached from how hard I was biting down on my fear. I'd seen this before. Not like this—never like this—but I knew this kind of dissociation. I knew what it was to lose yourself to trauma so fully that the world around you didn't exist anymore. I knew because I'd done it. Because he made me do it.

My blood boiled just thinking his name, but even that couldn't anchor me right now. Not when Melody was pissing himself and shaking like a caged animal.

"Don't touch him," I whispered, voice hoarse. All of us standing there, staring at the love of our lives like we didn't know how to save him.

Because we didn't.

How do you pull someone out of hell?

"He's not here right now," I managed, throat tight, heart pounding. "He's... he's back there."

Rory swallowed thickly beside me. "We didn't mean to lock the door. I—I didn't want anyone else coming in."

"He thinks he's trapped," I said. "He's not seeing us. He's there. He's in that basement again."

Sam stepped forward, but stopped. "Vince... what do we do?"

I shook my head slowly, chest heaving.

"I don't know."

I hated the words the second they left my mouth. I was supposed to be strong. I was the soldier. The fighter. The protector.

But I had no idea how to protect him from this.

Melody's head suddenly snapped to the side, as if he heard something we didn't. He covered his ears, rocking harder and whimpering in terror, wild with fear.

He wasn't looking at us. He wasn't seeing us. I could feel it in my bones. This wasn't a panic attack; this was a breakdown—a total mental fracture. He was unraveling, and the worst part? He was doing it alone.

I took a slow, shaky breath and reached back to unlock the door.

Click.

I didn't open it, just in case. No one else needed to see this or be here.

Melody had always felt small in my arms—delicate, breakable, like glass spun into a person. But now he looked... wrong. A hurricane trapped in a teacup. Something too big for the space he was curled into, like his body didn't fit anymore.

We had no idea how strong he had become or what power the Moon Goddess had truly bestowed upon him. Every step I took felt like navigating a minefield. Still, I pressed on—one foot in front of the other, slowly and cautiously, avoiding any sudden movements.

I crouched about a foot from him, my knees popping from the strain, and tried to keep my voice steady.

"Baby..."

He didn't flinch. Didn't blink. He just kept rocking and mumbling things I couldn't understand.

My throat clenched. "Baby, come back to us. Please."

Still nothing. No recognition. Just that hollow, vacant look in his eyes—like he was a million miles away.

I didn't dare reach out. Not yet. I could feel the buzz of energy vibrating off him—wild, unrestrained magic dancing under his skin like lightning trying to break free.