DONE ✔️ (UNDER EDIT)

Chapter Eight.

Chapter Eight.
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I woke from another nightmare, one of too many to count, and cursed myself for letting it get that far again. It hadn't even felt like a nightmare this time. More like a memory, warped and stretched until it no longer matched what had really happened. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

For a moment, I lay still, the darkness pressing close, the faint hum of the refrigerator in the next room the only sound. My heart was still racing, my palms damp with sweat.

With effort, I pushed myself upright and swung my legs over the side of the bed, maneuvering into the wheelchair. The familiar ache flared through my leg as I shifted my weight, a dull reminder that I was still broken... Still trapped.

I wheeled myself to the bathroom, went through the motions, then back again. The world outside the window was still black, the faintest line of dawn barely cutting the horizon. Early morning, probably around four or five.

It had only been two days since we'd been released from the hospital, and I already hated these new four walls. The apartment was supposed to be a fresh start. Instead, it felt like another kind of cage. My leg, and the lack of any accessible transport, meant I hadn't been outside once and it was driving me stir crazy.

The others had been doing the grocery runs. River, with help from Kimmy, had brought back a small pile of clothes for me, loose shirts, a few pairs of pants, all practical, none personal. They'd tried. I knew that. But it still felt like I was wearing someone else's life.

I hadn't made contact with the outside world. The others had, though, and from what they'd said, I wasn't missing much. The news channels were all the same, with people pretending everything was fine, life still moving forward as if the world hadn't burned.

Kineallen was still thriving, still pretending to be normal.

But me? I wasn't sure I remembered what normal even was.

I turned on the bedside lamp; the sudden light was harsh but what else was I supposed to do this early without waking Marie up?

I reached under the bed and pulled out the worn duffel bag, setting it in my lap. The journals tumbled out, all of mine and the one of his. Along with them came a half-empty blister pack of pills I'd completely forgotten about.

I sighed, turning the pack over in my hands. I'd need to call a doctor soon, see if I could get a refill... Or maybe something longer lasting. A depot shot, maybe. Something I didn't have to remember to take every morning.

But that wasn't why I'd reached for the bag, so I placed the pack on the nightstand.

I don't know why I did it.

Maybe I wanted answers. Maybe I just wanted to feel something familiar again, even if it hurt.

I opened his diary first. The handwriting hit me harder than I'd expected, sharp, hurried, still undeniably him. I read until the words started to blur together, until my eyes grew heavy.