Evan's hands, were too harsh, taking what wasn't his to take. The sweet cedar scent of Nate's skin morphs into the sour stench of beer and cigarettes that clung to Evan that night.

Panic spreads through my chest like ice water in my veins.

No, stop.

This is Nate.

Safe, gentle Nate.

Count to three.

One…

But Evan's voice drowns out my counting.

My skin crawls with phantom touches. The soft lighting dims in my mind, replaced by suffocating darkness. The wall against my back feels like that mattress—the springs digging into my spine, the sheets tangled around my legs like restraints. The taste of mint from Nate's kiss turns metallic, like the blood in my mouth from biting my lip to keep quiet.

This isn't real.

It's Nate.

It's Nate.

But my body doesn't believe my mind.

The harder I fight the memories, the stronger they become, like quicksand pulling me under. Evan's grip on my wrists, the weight crushing my ribs, his hot breath against my neck—it all crashes back in vivid, terrible detail. When Nate's fingers ghost along my thigh, reality splinters. I'm falling through time, through space, through that trap door I thought I'd sealed shut, back into the darkness where monsters wear human faces.

My lungs forget how to work. The room spins faster. Every touch, even Nate's gentle ones, feels like burns on my skin. My throat closes, remembering the pressure of Evan's hand, the way he squeezed until stars burst behind my eyes.

"Nora?" Nate's voice cuts through the fog, and I realize I'm shaking, breath coming in panicked gasps.

He pulls back immediately, hands raised as if he's the one who's done something wrong. The hurt and confusion in his eyes guts me.

"Shit, Nora," he says softly, my nickname breaking in his mouth. "Hey, fuck, I'm so sorry. I—did I hurt you?"

"N-no," I force out, though the word scrapes my throat raw. "I…I just need—" But the words die as I'm yanked back to that dark bedroom, feeling Evan's weight crushing me, his hand suffocating me.

Be a good girl and stop screaming.

It will hurt less if you stop moving.

You wanted this, you little bitch.

The concern in Nate's eyes makes my stomach turn. Doubt shadows his features, his own demons layering over mine. We're like two broken mirrors trying to reflect something whole.

"Nora, hey, I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have… I pushed you too far. Fuck. " he says, voice steady despite the pain in his eyes. "Hey, hey." His hands frame my face, grounding me. "I don't know where you've gone, but right now I need you to listen to my voice, okay? Just listen to me."

I nod, barely meeting his eyes as he takes my hand.

"Squeeze my hand," he murmurs, thumb tracing gentle circles on my knuckles. "When you can't breathe, just focus on that. Squeeze as hard as you need to, okay?”