I chuckled darkly, my hands tracing her jaw.

"You think I’m not real? You think this is just in your head?"

Her eyes flickered, the doubt in them so clear.

"I—I don’t know anymore."

I cupped her face gently, brushing my thumb across her lips.

"It doesn’t matter. I’m here. And you’ll never get away from me."

I kissed her again, harder this time.

She responded, melting into me, just as I knew she would.

I could feel the terror bubbling inside her, but it was buried beneath the heat of her desire.

She was mine.

She’d always been mine.

3

LENA

The daylight always brought the weight of guilt with it.

When I woke up, I could feel him, still lingering, still there.

But the sunlight burned away the fog, the desire, and I was left with the hollow feeling of what have I done?

I knew what had happened.

I wasn’t imagining it.

Cassian was real—he felt real.

His touch, his words, his presence—it all felt so… tangible.

But wasn’t that the problem?

Wasn’t that exactly what I was terrified of?

That I was losing myself?

That I was falling into something dark, something twisted?

I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection.

My eyes looked the same, but everything about me felt wrong.

I touched my lips, still remembering the heat of his kiss, the way he made me feel like I was losing control.

And I hated it.

But I didn’t stop wanting it.

He was inside me, wasn’t he?

Maybe not physically, but in every other way.

The way my body ached for him, the way my thoughts twisted around him.

It felt like a sickness, like a poison that I couldn’t shake off.

I turned away from the mirror and grabbed the pills from my drawer.

My hands were shaking.

They didn’t help.

Nothing helped.

He was still here, in my mind, in my skin.

He’d never leave.

“Why does he feel so real?” I whispered, clutching the bottle tighter. “Why can’t I make it stop?”

I didn’t have an answer.

I didn’t think I ever would.

4

LENA

The pill was a small, white, and innocent thing, but I couldn’t shake the dread that crept into my stomach each time I took it.

Dr. Halverson had prescribed it, convinced it was the key to controlling whatever madness had a grip on me.

He called it "schizophrenia" at first.

Told me it was a chemical imbalance, that the voices, the visions, the unbearable sensation of Cassian’s presence—it was all in my mind.

But it didn’t work.

The pills weren’t stopping him.

They weren’t stopping any of it.

Cassian—I could feel him now, just beneath my skin, coiling tighter, his whispers slithering through my thoughts like a poison.

His voice was a constant hum at the edge of my awareness, a low murmur that made my chest tighten and my breath catch.

“Lena, you think you can escape me? You’ll never escape me.”

I wanted to scream, wanted to claw at my own skin, tear the voice from my mind, but I couldn’t.

I couldn’t.

I just had to breathe through it.

I had to keep going.

Just... keep going.

The medication wasn’t working, and I knew it.

But I had no other choice.

What else could I do?

I glanced at the clock on the wall.

It was almost time for my next appointment with Dr. Halverson.

I hadn’t been honest with him.

I’d told him the pills helped.

Told him I was feeling better.

But I wasn’t.

I wasn’t better at all.

5

LENA

Dr. Halverson’s office was sterile, white walls and the faint smell of antiseptic hanging in the air.

His desk was meticulously organized, papers stacked neatly, a faint hum from the overhead lights.

 He looked at me with those sharp eyes of his, trying to read me like an open book.

He didn’t understand.

How could he?

“How are you feeling, Lena?” he asked, his voice smooth, professional.

But I could hear the doubt beneath it, the subtle suspicion that perhaps this wasn’t all a simple case of schizophrenia.

I didn’t know how to answer.

My fingers fidgeted in my lap.