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Jackson is the only thing stopping me from drifting away completely. It’s surprising that he’s able to penetrate through the fog shrouding me and the noise in my head. Part of me knows that he’ll fix everything once he reaches me, but I don’t know how to let him in.
That’s why I shared the memory of us together. I hoped it would show him we have history. Things have been coming back to me in a trickle since my mind was shut down. I don’t know if it is a side effect of the girls’ spell starting to work or if I’m unpacking my own past, but nearly every memory I have is of Jackson and I in that white-walled palace.
Maybe it’s something I’ve created to protect my mind.
It doesn’t feel like it, though. I believe they are true snippets of my life. I remember being at the facility. I remember a woman named Clover who took care of me. I recall the lessons that were forced upon me daily to hone my magic.
And Jackson… He’s a part of that too, though I don’t remember how.
But those memories only go back so far. There is nothing before them—just an empty void where the rest should be.
My mind is damaged, and I’m a prisoner within it. I can only hope my life will come back to me eventually.
Somewhere among the confusion and the white noise, I know there is something deeply wrong with me. My wolf and my witch half are desperately trying to repair my broken psyche, to bring me back, and while there are moments of clarity, they are fleeting, and it’s getting harder for me to keep breaking through.
Feeling unfamiliar magic after Jackson said he was going out to patrol the perimeter dragged me out of my stupor, but it only lasted until I knew Jackson was safe. I know he is the trigger; I just have to figure out how to use that to my advantage.
I’m losing the battle to remain who I am, even though I’m desperately trying to fight back. To cling to it.
All I know is that Jackson keeps me safe. Jackson brings me back.
I watch through eyes that are nothing more than windows as he moves around the kitchen in our cabin. It’s been twenty-four hours since the incident in the woods and the argument with his pack. He’s trying not to show how deeply it affected him, but I can tell.
He’s subdued, and there is deep-rooted sadness in his eyes as he tries to pretend everything is okay. Guilt gnaws at my belly that he’s fighting with his pack because of me. He needs them more than ever right now.
I watch the steam coming from the pot on the stove billow into the room. He needs to turn down the heat, but I can't get my mouth to open to tell him that.
Turn it down.
Turn. It. Down.
As usual, no sound comes out, and frustration burns inside me. I want to talk to him. I want to wrap my arms around his waist and hold him tight while I assure him everything is okay.
My limbs don’t so much as twitch.
Fight.
Tears prick my eyes, helplessness weighing me down.
Jackson sees the steam and reaches for the pot. Then, as if he can sense the turmoil within me, he turns to look at me, his heavy brows drawn together.
Say something, Dove…
I try to push the words out, but it feels as if my mouth is paralyzed.
Dammit.
I can feel myself starting to slip back into the cage that holds me captive. My thoughts are splintering, turning thick like molasses. Panic claws at my throat. I don’t want to slip back into that empty void where nothing and no one can reach me.
Jackson?
He hasn’t torn his gaze from me, and I have a brief moment of hope that he can somehow hear me, but how? I’m not speaking, I know that much, but he’s studying me as if he can hear every thought I’m having.
Help me.
He places the spatula on the countertop and rounds the island, moving toward me. His blond hair is longer now, and I wish I could run my fingers through it, I wish I’d taken more time with him before my mind was broken, but I can’t do anything as his eyes search mine. He kneels in front of me and whispers, “Can… Can you hear me? Are you in there?”
Yes.
