"Scars are a reminder of what you’ve been through and a reminder that you survived." Unknown

Veronica

The world swam back into focus, a blurry, disjointed mess. The cabin, the fight, Liam… it all felt like a nightmare, a horrifying dream I couldn’t wake up from. But the ache in my body, the sticky feeling on my hands… that was real. Too real.

Saint held me close, his arms a comforting weight around me. His presence was a lifeline, a beacon in the darkness that threatened to engulf me. I clung to him, my body shaking uncontrollably. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think. I could only feel the terror, the shock, the lingering fear that Liam could still jump out at me.

He led me out of the cabin, the cool night air a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the room. The stars were out, a million tiny pinpricks of light in the vast darkness. They seemed so distant, so unreachable. Like everything else in my life.

We reached his car, and he gently helped me inside. I curled up in the passenger seat, my eyes closed, trying to block out the images that kept flashing through my mind: Liam’s face, contorted with rage, the glint of the knife, the sickening thud of the vase… I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the memories away.

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Saint started the car, the engine’s rumble a low, soothing hum. He didn’t say anything. He just reached over and took my hand, his touch warm and reassuring. I gripped his hand tightly, as if it were the only thing keeping me anchored to reality.

The drive back was a blur. I don’t remember much of it. I was lost in my own head, replaying the events of the night over and over again, each time more horrifying than the last. I felt numb, disconnected, like I was watching someone else’s life unfold.

We arrived at Saint’s apartment, and he helped me out of the car. He led me inside, the familiar surroundings a small comfort. He took me to the bedroom, and I sank onto the bed, exhausted and emotionally drained.

He knelt beside me, his eyes filled with concern. “Veronica,” he said softly, “are you sure you’re okay? We need to go to the hospital. You need to be checked out.”

I looked at him, tears welling up in my eyes. I wanted to tell him everything, to explain what had happened, but the words wouldn’t come. The memory of Liam’s attack, the fear, the violence… it was all too much. And the thought of a hospital, of strangers poking and prodding, asking questions… it was overwhelming. “Not right now,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Please… not right now. I just… I just need you. I just need to sleep.”

He hesitated, his brow furrowed with worry. “But Veronica…”

“Please, Saint,” I begged, my voice cracking. “Just… hold me.”

He sighed, his concern evident in his eyes. He knew I wasn’t okay. He knew I needed more than just sleep. But he also knew that pushing me right now would only make things worse. He nodded slowly. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. I’m here.”

He pulled me into his arms, holding me close. I buried my face in his chest, letting the tears flow freely. I cried for the fear, for the trauma, for the life that had almost been taken from me. And I cried for the life that was growing inside me, the tiny life that had been so close to danger.

Saint held me, his embrace a safe haven in the storm raging inside me. He didn’t ask any questions. He just held me, letting me cry, letting me grieve, letting me heal. And in his arms, I finally felt a flicker of hope. A hope that maybe, just maybe, I could survive this. That maybe, with Saint by my side, I could find my way back to the light.