I cried for everything.

Ava's POV

The moment the door slammed shut behind Damian, the silence swallowed me whole, a heavy, suffocating blanket that pressed in from all sides. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My limbs felt leaden, my muscles frozen in a tableau of shock and revulsion.

His kiss still lingered on my lips—harsh, unwanted, like a virulent stain I couldn’t scrub away no matter how hard I willed it. My skin crawled, a thousand invisible insects scuttling across my flesh, leaving trails of icy dread. My throat burned, raw and tight, as if I’d swallowed embers. And my wrists… they throbbed where his fingers had been, the phantom ache of iron cuffs tightening around my bones, branding me with his touch. The room felt immense, cavernous, each shadow stretching and deepening, an oppressive darkness that seemed to soak up all light and hope. The air was thick and still, heavy with unspoken things, as if even it had witnessed something that shouldn’t have happened, something that had fundamentally shifted the axis of my world.

Slowly, agonizingly, I slid to the floor. My back met the cold, unforgiving wood paneling with a dull thud that echoed in the unnatural quiet. My knees pulled instinctively to my chest, a desperate, fetal curl, as if making myself smaller could somehow protect me from the vastness of my despair. The weight of it all pressed down on me—the violation, the fear, the crushing inevitability of my new reality. It was so heavy, so profound, I thought it might just break me in half, shatter me into a million irreparable pieces.

And then I cried.

It started silently at first. Just a trembling of my shoulders, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor that ran through my frame. The soundless hitch of breath, caught painfully between my ribs, a choked gasp that never quite escaped my throat. My vision blurred, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, hot and stinging, but still refusing to fall. It was as if my body, too, was in shock, struggling to process the enormity of the pain.

But it grew. The dam within me, so carefully constructed, so meticulously maintained, began to crack, then crumble. The sobs came in waves, uncontrolled and raw, ripping through me. They were messy, unbidden, tearing from the deepest parts of my being. I buried my face in my hands, pressing hard against my eyelids, as if I could physically push the images, the sensations, the unbearable reality, back into the darkness. I wept until my chest ached with the effort, until my lungs begged for air, burning and desperate. I cried until my fingers shook uncontrollably, until my whole body trembled with the force of my grief and rage.

I cried for everything.

For my freedom, now just a mocking memory, a faint echo of a life I no longer possessed. I was caged, bound not by physical chains, but by an invisible, unbreakable thread of obligation. The open sky, the simple act of choosing my own path, all felt like distant dreams, unattainable and forever out of reach.

For my dignity, bruised and battered, stomped into the ground by a man who saw me as nothing more than an object, a transaction. Every fiber of my being recoiled from his touch, from his arrogant assumption of ownership. The violation had seeped into my very soul, leaving me feeling tainted, sullied.

But most of all, I cried for Eli.

My sweet twin brother. The thought of him was a fresh stab of pain, a searing ache that dwarfed all others. Eli. My anchor, my reason, my other half.

His smile—so bright despite everything, a beacon of pure joy in the face of relentless suffering. Even through the pallor of his skin, the fragile transparency of his veins, that smile had always been radiant, infectious. I could see him now, lying in his hospital bed, thin and weak, but still, always, smiling for me. His hands clutching mine during treatments, a desperate, trusting grip that spoke volumes of his fear and his unwavering faith in me. His voice, soft and scared in the night, a mere whisper when the pain was too much, when the medications barely touched the edges of his agony.

"Will I get better, Ava?" he’d whispered, his eyes wide and hopeful, searching my face for assurance.

"Of course you will, baby. I promise," I’d always replied, my voice steady, betraying none of the terror gnawing at my insides. A lie. A necessary, vital lie.

That promise echoed in my head now, cruel and sharp, a bitter irony. How many lies had I told him to keep him hopeful, to keep that fragile spark of life flickering within him? How many more would I have to whisper, to weave into the fabric of his desperate reality, to make sure he held on just a little longer?

I was doing this for him. This truth was the only thing that kept me from shattering completely, the only sliver of solid ground in a swirling vortex of despair.

Not for myself. Never for myself. I didn’t care about money, or power, or names like Blackwood, names that spoke of legacy and influence and everything I despised. I would’ve walked into fire for him, willingly, without a moment’s hesitation. This… this was just another kind of fire. And it burned worse than I ever thought it would. A slow, agonizing immolation of my spirit.

I curled into myself on the cold floor, making myself as small as I possibly could, my arms wrapped tightly around my shivering body. I wished, desperately, that I could disappear into the shadows, become invisible, cease to exist. Maybe then, if I could vanish, I wouldn’t feel so violated, so filthy, so utterly broken.

Damian had kissed me like I was something he owned, an object to be claimed and consumed. Like I was nothing more than a pawn in whatever cruel, twisted game he was playing with my life. And maybe I was. Maybe that was all I would ever be to him. A means to an end, a currency for his ambitions.

But Eli—

He was the only thing that mattered. He had to live. He had to. This conviction, fierce and unyielding, was the last bastion of my resolve. It was the only thing that kept me from giving in to the darkness completely.

The tears kept coming, a seemingly endless torrent that left me feeling wrung out and hollowed. A new, terrifying thought burrowed its way into my mind, sharp and cold: What if this wasn’t enough? What if giving myself to a monster didn’t save him? What if I sacrificed everything—my body, my soul, my very essence—and still lost the only person who ever truly loved me? The idea was unbearable, a fresh wave of nausea rising in my throat.

I clutched my arms around myself tighter, digging my nails into my flesh, as if the physical pain could somehow distract from the emotional agony. I rocked back and forth, a desperate, silent plea to the universe. And I whispered his name like a prayer, a mantra against the encroaching darkness.

“Eli…”

Over and over. Just his name. A soft, broken sound that was barely audible even to my own ears.

Like it could anchor me to something real, something good, something untainted. Like it could remind me why I hadn’t run when I still had the chance, when the possibility of escape had still glimmered tantalizingly before me.

I didn’t feel strong. I didn’t feel brave. All I felt was tired. Profoundly, deeply tired, down to the very marrow of my bones. Empty. Drained of all emotion, all energy, all will.

But somewhere beneath the crushing pain, beneath the hollow, aching void in my chest, lived a fragile thread of hope. Barely there, a whisper of possibility, so faint it was almost imperceptible. But alive. A tiny, stubborn spark refusing to be extinguished.

Maybe this nightmare, this agonizing, soul-crdestroying ordeal, would be worth it. Maybe it would give him another birthday, another year of life.

Another reason to laugh, that pure, unburdened sound that was music to my ears.

Another day to live, to breathe, to simply be.

That hope was all I had left. It was a flimsy shield against an onslaught of despair, but it was something.

So I cried until my voice was gone, reduced to a rasp, until my body was limp and cold against the floor, drained of all vitality. Until there was nothing left but the soft, shuddering sound of my breath, and the ghost of a promise—a sacred, terrifying vow—I could only pray wouldn’t break. My only prayer was that it would be enough. That somehow, against all odds, Eli would live.