I wake up screaming.
At first, I didn't know if it was a dream or if I actually said the words out loud. It's pitch black. Suffocatingly dark. The kind of dark that makes your breath catch in your throat like you've swallowed water the wrong way. My throat is raw. My ribs ache like they've been split open and stitched shut with burning wire.
"Help me!" I cry out. My voice sounds foreign. Hoarse. Small. A child's voice in a grown woman's body. "Please! Someone! I can't see!"
My heart is pounding so hard it's a drum against my ribcage, threatening to tear through my skin. I try to sit up but my left side screams in pain. My leg doesn't move. My arm won't either. And then I fall not far, but far enough for pain to rip through me like lightning.
I hit the cold floor.
It's freezing. Concrete or linoleum, maybe. My body trembles uncontrollably, half from pain, half from panic. I can't tell where the bruises end and the breaks begin.
Then, light. Blinding, stark fluorescent light. A switch flicked on. I flinch so hard I think I might pass out again. My good arm flies up to shield my face, but the broken one is twisted against my stomach uselessly.
The flashbacks hit like camera shutters. Sharp. Disjointed. A collage of torment.
Flash.
He's standing there with that grin.
Flash.
He's holding his phone.
"Pose for me, baby," he says. "Let them see how pretty you are when you're obedient."
Flash.
I'm naked. Covered in bruises and cuts. My own blood trailing down my thigh.
Flash.
Laughter. His laughter.
Click. Snap. "Smile, baby. Look at the camera."
"Make it stop!" I scream, clawing at my own scalp. "Please make it stop!"
A soft voice. A hand on my shoulder.
"You're safe. You're safe now."
I flinch. My body jerks. For a second, I don't trust it. Touch has never meant safety before.
But I turn slowly. A woman is kneeling next to me. A nurse, maybe. She has kind eyes. Wrinkles around them like she's spent years trying to reassure people like me.
I look around.
The room is tiny, claustrophobic. The ceiling is low and the single window is more of a slit, like one you'd find in a prison. The bed is metal-framed, the sheets stiff and starched. There's a plastic tray with food on a tiny table. Cold. Untouched. A light blinks in the corner of a security camera. Watching me.
Am I in prison?
No… No, this is something else. There are no bars, but there's no freedom either. There's this hum in the walls. The kind that makes your skin crawl. The air smells like an antiseptic and something sterile, like lost hope.
"How did I get here?" I whisper, voice cracking. "Where am I?"
The nurse helps me up gently and sets me back on the bed. "You're in a hospital ward, Talia," she says. "But not the general one. You're in the psychiatric wing. Just temporarily, while you recover."
"Psychiatric?" My chest tightens. "They think I'm… crazy?"
"You're not crazy," she says. Too quickly. Too softly. Like she doesn't even believe it herself.
I start hyperventilating. My lungs won't take in air fast enough. The world starts to spin. I grip the sheet with my one good hand like it's the only thing anchoring me to earth. I want to scream again but it's caught in my throat.
"I didn't mean to shoot him," I whisper. "I didn't mean to…"
She presses a button on the wall. Moments later, another nurse enters male this time. A syringe glints in the light. Before I can fight, it's in my arm. Cold. Sharp. And then...
Everything fades.
The world dims into silence. But just before the darkness swallows me again, I hear my own voice in the room.
Calling out for him.
"Fabio…"
When I open my eyes again, it's morning. Pale gray light leaks through the window slit. I must've been out for hours. Maybe longer.
A new nurse is standing beside the bed. She's young. Brown ponytail. No makeup. Eyes that try not to linger. She doesn't ask how I am. Maybe she already knows.
"You should eat," she says, nodding to the tray. "You have your first session with the doctor today."
Session? Why? What's the point of digging up more pain?
I turn my head away. My stomach is a cold, hard knot. There's no room for food in this body. Only grief. Guilt. Rage.
"I don't need a doctor," I mumble. "I just need to go home."
She doesn't respond. Just clears her throat and walks out.
Good. I don't want to be pitied. Not today. Not ever.
Moments later, the male nurse returns with a wheelchair. I recognize his face from last night, though it's blurry around the edges in my memory. He helps me into it without a word. No smile. No kindness. Just practiced routine.
The hallway is silent. White walls. Too white. Like a blank page, I'll never be able to write on.
I don't speak as he wheels me into the doctor's room.
And it's nothing like the movies.
No soft chairs. No warm lamps. No comforting music in the background. Just a square, gray room with a chair, a small table, and a mirror on the wall that I know is two-way. Someone is behind it. Watching. Judging. Maybe taking notes.
I hate mirrors. All I ever see in them is someone I no longer recognize.
The woman who sits across from me looks ordinary. Mid forties . Glasses. A kind face that isn't trying too hard. She doesn't look at me like I'm a bomb about to go off. She just looks. Like she's been here before. Maybe not in this chair, but somewhere similar.
"Talia," she says gently. "I'm Dr. Ellison. This is a safe space."
Safe. That word again.
I don't answer. I stare at the tiny window behind her. It's high and narrow like the room is afraid to let in too much light.
"Do you know why you're here?"
I stay silent.
She tries again. "I'm here to help you make sense of what happened. To help you heal."
I laugh. It's dry. Empty. Healing isn't even on the table. Survival is the only thing I'm capable of right now.
She doesn't push. Just watches me with that maddening softness. I want her to get angry. Yell. Demand answers. It would be easier than this… patience.
But I can't give her anything.
I drift.
My eyes blur out the edges of the room. The light flickers once above me. I hear a memory of Fabio's voice.
"You'll never leave me. You're mine."
I blink hard. The walls tilt. My stomach lurches.
And then the nurse is wheeling me back again.
The session is over.
I never said a word.