Page 62 of Shattered Obsession

“Just… keep breathing. One day at a time. You’ve got people who love you. And furballs who’d probably riot if you didn’t come home.”

Her words strike a deeper chord than I expected, filling me with warmth and gratitude. Tears well up in my eyes, surprising me, but I blink them away quickly and nudge her playfully with my foot. “You’re too good to me.”

“Damn right,” she replies with a teasing grin, the light returning to her eyes. Bella and Bailey settle deeper into sleep, lulled by the comforting energy in the room. For a few blissful hours, the world outside fades away, leaving only laughter, love, and the unwavering reminder that I am not alone.

-Isla-

Thalia doesn’t see how every time she smiles, a shadow still lingers behind her eyes, whispering of the burdens she carries. She doesn’t realize her body still reacts before her brain does, how the click of a door latch makes her shoulders tense, how she scans every parking lot before stepping into it.

Trauma teaches the body to remember, even when the mind tries to forget.

I watch her feed the dogs, her movements practiced and slow, like she’s relearning the steps. She pauses sometimes, hands on her knees, breathing through invisible battles.

I wish I could take it from her. But I can’t.

So, I stay.

She’s oblivious to the way her fingers grip her mug with an intensity that suggests she’s bracing against a storm or how her laughter arrives a heartbeat late, as though she has to remind herself to let it out. Her gaze flits toward the door every so often, a movement that speaks more than words ever could, an unconscious preparation for something lurking on the other side. But I see it. I’ve always seen it, and I can’t look away.

I sink into her worn couch, and my eyes follow Thalia as she absently strokes Bella’s ear. She believes her facade is seamless, that she has cloaked her pain beneath layers of forced cheerfulness, but I know better. Trauma is not a ghost that simply fades away; it weaves itself into the very fabric of our being, etching its presence into our movements, haunting our moments of silence.

“You’re doing better,” I tell her. It’s the truth. There’s a hint of vibrancy in her cheeks now, a rosy tint that hadn’t been there weeks ago. She no longer looks like she’s drowning with every breath, struggling to keep her head above water. “But don’t you dare think you have to be perfect.”

A smirk pulls at her lips, her eyes sparkling just a touch with unshed tears. “You always know what to say.”

That’s because I’ve had practice. I’ve witnessed the fragments of her soul laid bare, bleeding in ways that no simple bandage could ever mend. And I know I’ll witness it all again, because that’s what friendship demands. You stay. You stay even when the world feels heavy, especially when the ugly truths begin to show.

Bella sighs heavily, flopping onto the rug with a soft thump. I shift closer, my shoulder brushing against hers, signaling to her that I’m here and unshakeable.

“You know, Xander’s a good one,” I remark, a teasing smile creeping onto my face, “but don’t forget that I was here first. You’ll never scare me off.”

For a fleeting moment, her lips tremble, and I wonder if I’m about to see her the way I’ve seen her before, cracked and vulnerable. Instead, a soft, shaky laugh spills from her, a sound that feels like a release.

“You’re stuck with me forever, huh?”

“Exactly,” I reply, swinging my arm around her shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze. I don’t tell her about the rage that coils in my stomach at the thought of Damian. Rage that surprises even me.

I’m not violent.

But I understand violence now.

Maybe that’s what love does; it reshapes you into whatever weapon is needed.

If he comes back, I won’t scream.

I’ll bite.

In this instant, surrounded by furry companions, enveloped in warmth, and witnessing her small smile, I silently vow a promise. If the past ever comes clawing back for her, if the shadows dare to encroach upon her light again, they’ll have to fight through me first. I don’t tell her that I looked up self-defense classes last night. Or that I carry pepper spray now. Or that I memorize license plates in parking lots. Because loving someone means preparing for battles they don’t know are coming.

-Thalia-

The leash feels fragile in my hand, as if it could snap at any moment under the weight of my anxiety. Bella trots happily beside me, tail wagging with naive joy, utterly unaware of the tension tightening in my chest.

Then I see it. The car. Shimmering silver, parked across the lot, its engine humming quietly like a predator lying in wait.

And there he is—Damian, leaning against the driver’s side with an air of casual indifference.

For a second, my vision collapses into a tunnel. My body reacts before my thoughts connect. Knees weak. Mouth dry. A metallic taste floods my tongue, adrenaline rushing through my bloodstream like poison.