As the darkness crept into the room, the last burnished rays of daylight slipping away, so too did the demons lurking in my mind step forth. I worked my fingers, bones groaning, my body frozen and stiff in my thin clothes. I’d dozed intermittently throughout the day, holding my form in the same curled, uncomfortable position. My neck ached; tentatively, I rolled it, a sharp crack and a lash of pain unfurling with the movement. I sat upright, sending bullets rolling across the uneven floor. I stared with blank eyes at the weapons, feeling their phantom grip in my right hand. My left itched, but it was easy to ignore. I could hardly feel anything, now. Until my gaze drifted to the door. It had been open before, cracked wide enough to see where my exit lay – and to see any enemies approaching. But it was sealed shut, and as the dusk cast the room in shadow its edges paled and faded, until it was indistinguishable from the wall aroun

The duvet pooled around my waist. The racing of my blood roared in my ears, an ocean pulling back, reaching higher and higher, preparing to crash – I slipped from the bed, staring wide-eyed out into the darkness. I waited for something, anything, another tap, a pasty white hand reaching for the slice of open air between the frame and the glass. Nothing came. I stepped closer. I hardly felt the bite of cold air against my skin, hairs raising on my arms and thighs. The wind wound around me, a playful cat teasing its way between my shins and calves. I swallowed hard, my throat bobbing, and forced my eyes to look beyond the familiar pile of books stacked on the windowsill, the green light of the digital clock that I’d moved there to help keep the night at bay, the old rum bottle that Harper had kept from his first night at university. I looked past it all, yet still I saw nothing. I reached the windowsill. With n

We lay entwined together atop the duvet for an eternity, re-learning one another, touching and kissing and exploring. Once, the darkness swelling around our bodies would have terrified me. Tonight, I felt at home amongst it, lost in the shadows. I was as much a part of it as it was of me. The mask started to slip, until I was bared before him. We broke apart, chests heaving, as I fought with the agony searing my heart. It ached to burst free, and even Cyrus’s kisses could not keep it at bay forever. He ran a gentle fingertip along my jutting collarbone. “You were going to tell me something,” I murmured, desperate for another distraction. I didn’t want to fall into the chasm within myself again, not in front of him, not so soon after he’d returned to me. I did not deserve his affection, but I did not want him to leave, either. Torn in two, the only resolution I could see lay with him.

As the first light of dawn shuddered across the navy sky, Cyrus and I strolled arm-in-arm down the winding path towards the sea. Silence filled the space between us, but it was easy, contemplative. I had no doubt that we were both processing the same thing, and the comforting pressure of his body pressing against mine was enough to soothe me as I turned over this new revelation in my head. We dipped further down towards the coast, the pathway gradually evening out and curving along the cliff’s edge. I probed at the thing in my chest curiously, and felt an answering nudge back. I gaped at Cyrus, and he chuckled softly before squeezing my hand. “That’s going to take some getting used to,” I said on a heavy exhale. “But – if it’s been there all along, then why didn’t I feel it to begin with?” “It develops over time. The stronger our bond became, the more it grew.&r

“You know,” Cyrus said, his tone carefully casual, “I could do the same for your Dads – and the other hunters, too.” He set down the photograph he’d been holding, the wooden frame knocking against the hard surface of the kitchen counter. I didn’t have to look to know which photo in particular he’d been about to pack into my old, worn suitcase, scraped from years of overuse. The day had dawned slowly, the sun hiding behind blank white clouds that had grown grey as they had settled into the sky. The kitchen was dim, though Cyrus’s eyes still somehow glittered like stars on a calm sea as they met mine. I sighed, shoving the last of my cutlery into the same wicker basket I’d used to move my utensils to and from university for the last three years. It smelt faintly of fruity cider, and my nose crinkled slightly at the faded red stain down its side.