“I… I’m still hearing him.”

The words felt like acid on my tongue, but they slipped out before I could stop them.

“Cassian?”

Dr. Halverson’s gaze sharpened. “Have you been taking the medication as prescribed?”

I nodded, but the truth was, I wasn’t sure the pills did anything anymore.

I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

He leaned back in his chair, studying me for a moment.

His brow furrowed slightly.

“You know, Lena,” he began, his voice softer now, more thoughtful, “I’m beginning to wonder if this isn’t schizophrenia at all.”

I blinked, my heart hammering in my chest.

What did he mean?

He continued, not waiting for me to respond.

“Your condition, the voices, the hallucinations—they might not be symptoms of a mental illness, but trauma-induced delusions. It’s possible that the car accident...”

The words faded as a cold chill ran through me.

I heard him, but I couldn’t focus on what he was saying.

My thoughts were spiraling.

The car accident.

He kept bringing it up like it was supposed to mean something.

But I didn’t remember it.

I didn’t remember anything about that night.

Only the scars, the memories that felt like they belonged to someone else.

“Your subconscious might have created these delusions to protect you,” Dr. Halverson continued, his voice growing more distant, as though I wasn’t really hearing him anymore. “It could be a way to process the trauma. A way to cope.”

But I didn’t want to cope.

I didn’t want to think about the accident anymore.

I wanted to forget it.

I wanted to forget him.

And yet, Cassian was still there.

Always there.

“You can’t forget me, Lena,” he whispered, his voice now a sharp, invasive presence in my mind. “I’m part of you.”

I could feel his fingers brush against my neck, a cold, possessive touch that made my blood run cold.

I closed my eyes, but it didn’t stop.

It never stopped.

Dr. Halverson’s voice finally cut through the fog in my mind.

“I think we need to reconsider your diagnosis,” he said, his voice a little gentler now. “I want to dig deeper into the accident. It’s possible your mind created Cassian as a response to your trauma. But that would mean...”

He trailed off, looking at me as if waiting for some kind of breakthrough.

But I couldn’t give him that.

I couldn’t explain what was happening to me.

He didn’t understand.

No one did.

6

LENA

Later that evening, after I left Dr. Halverson’s office, the weight of his words pressed down on me like a stone.

Trauma-induced delusions.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe I wasn’t crazy.

But if that were true, why couldn’t I get rid of Cassian?

Why did he keep touching me, whispering to me, demanding that I submit?

And then, as if on cue, I felt it again.

The coldness.

I stopped in my tracks, my heart hammering in my chest.

There, just at the edge of my vision, I saw him.

Cassian.

He was standing in the corner of my living room, watching me.

His pale eyes gleamed in the dim light, and his lips curled into that twisted, familiar smile.

“Lena,” he breathed, his voice a low murmur that I could almost feel against my skin. “You can’t escape me.”

I turned away, pressing my hands to my ears.

Not again.

I couldn’t do this.

I couldn’t face him again.

But then something strange happened.

Mira walked in, her face full of concern.

She must’ve sensed the shift in the air, the way I froze, my body rigid with terror.

“Lena, what is it? What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t answer.

I couldn’t speak.

My eyes were locked on Cassian.

He wasn’t even looking at me now.

He was watching Mira, his lips curling up in that familiar, sinister way.

And that’s when I saw it.

Mira didn’t see him.

But Cassian was there.

He was so real.

He wasn’t a hallucination.

He wasn’t just in my mind.

I could hear Mira’s voice, but it was distant, muffled, as if I was underwater.

“Lena?” she said again, her hand brushing my arm.

I flinched, but when she touched me, something inside me shifted.