Saved By Steven (the first story)

12. What We Remember

Lauren blinked once—twice.
The ceiling above her shifted like it was underwater.
Her heartbeat sounded far away, like it belonged to someone else.
She tried to focus on it.
Count the beats.
Find a rhythm.
But the rhythm was off.

She realized she was sweating, despite the chill still lingering in her bones. Her mouth tasted like ash. Her teeth ached. She turned onto her side, groaning. Her earbuds had fallen out. The iPod was still clutched in her hand.

Voices floated in from the kitchen—Mick, low and serious. Another, softer—Steven. They were talking about her. She didn't need to hear the words. She could feel it in the way their voices dropped. Like the air shifted when she entered a room, even asleep.

Lauren curled tighter into herself.
I didn't mean to make this a problem.
I just needed to feel okay for ten minutes.

Ten minutes had turned into fog. She didn't know how long she'd been asleep, how much she'd taken. She didn't care. But somewhere—beneath the itch in her veins and the lead weight of shame—she knew she was slipping.

And the worst part? They saw it now. She wasn't invisible anymore.

"So," Mick said, breaking the silence, "what is it you want to tell me?"
Steven hesitated, dragging a hand through his hair. His fingers trembling, though he tried to hide it.

"Two nights ago," he began, voice low, "the guys and I went out to a bar—some weird disco-themed place. Kind of tacky, but whatever. We were about to leave when... we saw this guy—cornering a woman. He had her by the arm. She was trying to get away."Steven swallowed. Mick said nothing.
"We ran over. The guy bolted when he saw us. Coward. She was..." He paused. "Her dress was torn. She was shaking. Could barely stand. Wouldn't say a word at first. Then we finally got her to tell us where she lived. So we took her home. In the limo."Steven's voice softened, eyes distant now.
"I walked her upstairs myself. Got her inside, into bed. She asked my name before she passed out, but I don't think she heard the answer. She was so far gone. I didn't want to leave her, but..."
His sentence trailed off.
Mick rubbed the back of his neck. "That was Lauren."
Steven nodded. "Yeah. She doesn't know it was me. She remembers pieces, maybe. But not that."
"Jesus," Mick muttered. "I... I don't even know what to say."
"I don't think she knows how close that night came to being worse." Steven's voice cracked slightly. "And I'm not telling you this because I want credit. I just... I've been carrying it. Watching her walk around like it's nothing. And maybe it is nothing to her. Maybe she doesn't even want to remember."
There was a rustle from the living room. Both men turned their heads toward the sound.Lauren.She had gotten up, blanket still around her shoulders, her face pale and drawn. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, but focused.Mick straightened. "Hey, sleepyhead."Lauren blinked slowly, her balance slightly off as she leaned against the wall.
Steven took a step forward. "You okay?"

Lauren opened her mouth to speak, then faltered. "Bucket," she mumbled.
Steven was already moving, grabbing the trash can from the corner. He handed it to her just in time.
She dropped to her knees, hands trembling as she threw up into the bin. Her hair fell forward.
Mick was at her side in seconds, gently pulling her curls back, rubbing her neck. Steven
crouched nearby, a bottle of water in his hand, silent and steady.
When she finally leaned back, drained and pale, Steven offered the water.
Lauren took it with shaking hands, sipped slowly.

A long silence followed.
Then she whispered, barely audible: "I remember."Mick glanced at her. "What do you remember, honey?"

Lauren didn't look at either of them. She just stared into the middle distance, like the memory was still unfurling inside her.
"I remember who brought me home Sunday."
Steven's heart gave a strange lurch. His voice was soft. "Who was it?"
Lauren's eyes flicked toward him. "You," she said. "It was you."
Steven said nothing, but his breath hitched. For a long second, they just looked at each other.
"I didn't know," Lauren continued, voice cracking. "I mean... I think I did. Somewhere inside. But I couldn't see your face. I just... felt safe. I thought it was a dream."
"It wasn't," Steven said quietly.

Lauren gave a tiny nod, then looked away. Shame and gratitude swirled behind her eyes, and she didn't seem to know which to show first.
"I should've said thank you," she muttered.
"You don't have to," Steven said. "I'm just glad we were there."
She let the blanket fall from her shoulders and sank onto the couch, curling her knees to her chest. Her body looked smaller than usual—fragile, worn out.

Mick excused himself quietly, giving them space.
Steven sat across from her, not pushing, not prying. Just there.
Lauren stared at the water bottle in her hand.
"I don't remember everything. But I remember the fear. And... that I didn't want to be alone."
"You're not now," Steven said.
Her lip trembled slightly. She pressed the bottle to her mouth to hide it.
No one spoke for a while.

Lauren stared at the water bottle in her hands, turning it slowly like she was trying to read something in the label that wasn't there.
"I don't remember everything," she murmured. "Just flashes. The corner. That man. The sound of someone yelling. Hands pulling me away. I was so scared I couldn't even breathe."
Steven leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees.
"You were wearing a red dress," he said gently. "Sequins on the sleeves. It was torn. You had one shoe on. You wouldn't let go of my hand."
Her breath caught."I remember," she whispered. "Someone... someone kept saying, 'You're okay now.' Over and over."
"That was me."
Lauren closed her eyes, and for a moment Steven thought she might start crying. But instead, she just breathed—long and slow—like she was trying to anchor herself back into the moment.
"I thought that night was going to be the end of me," she said, her voice thin.
Steven looked at her gently, waiting. Letting her say it.
"And the worst part is..." she hesitated, eyes fixed on the blanket in her lap. "I was okay with that."

Those words sat heavy in the room.
She didn't cry.
She didn't break.
She just... admitted it, like saying it out loud made it less monstrous.

"I didn't fight him. Not really. I mean, I froze. I wanted it to stop but... part of me didn't care anymore. Like maybe this was how it ends, and that was fine."Steven's hands were clenched together between his knees. He kept his voice steady."But it didn't end."Lauren looked up at him, eyes glassy but not breaking. "No. It didn't."
"You're still here."
"Yeah," she said quietly. "Still here. Still breathing."
There was a long silence between them—not awkward, not heavy, just... real.
"You saved me," she added, as if realizing it in real time. "And I didn't even know your name."
Steven gave a small, sad smile. "Now you do."