His head hits the pillow with a soft thud, the cool fabric against his face providing a temporary sense of relief. He doesn’t fight it. He doesn’t have the energy. The darkness comes for him like it always does, a slow, creeping thing that drags him under without a fight. His mind becomes a fog, his thoughts scattered, floating just beyond his reach.

And before he knows it, he’s gone.

Unconscious. Gone from the world for now. Lost in that hazy, numb place between dreams and nothingness. The pain, the worries, the weight of the day—all of it is smothered in the deep, all-consuming sleep. He lets it happen, letting himself drift away, hoping for just a little peace.

But it’s not real peace, not the kind he wants.

It’s the kind that comes when you can’t feel anything anymore.

Rose slowly drifted into a dreamless sleep

Rose woke around 3am and couldn't fall back asleep. She sat up slowly, trying to not disturb him, and pulled out her phone. She scrolled silently and mindlessly through it and ran her fingers through his hair

Caden’s heart slammed in his chest, every beat frantic, desperate to pull him out of the suffocating blackness. The pressure on his chest didn’t ease; it only grew heavier, more consuming. Every breath felt like it might be his last, but just as the panic reached its peak, everything went still again.

And then—gasp—he woke up.

The sudden breath tore through his lungs, sharp and ragged, like he’d been drowning. His eyes snapped open, but the world around him was still too blurry, too distant. His chest heaved as he fought to take in air, the weight of his own breath suffocating him. His body shot upright, his back stiff as though it were fighting against the invisible force that had pressed him down only moments ago.

His hands trembled, palms slick with sweat as he ran them over his face, trying to ground himself, to make sense of what was real and what wasn’t. He could feel his pulse in his neck, pounding hard, frantic as it fought against the eerie stillness. The room around him felt just as it had before, dim and quiet, but the pressure that had been crushing him—that suffocating weight—was gone.

Still, his breath came in short, panicked bursts, as though he were still caught in the grip of whatever had held him. He gasped again, fighting for air, like he was trying to climb out of some dark pit. But the panic was slow to recede, lingering in his chest like a storm that wouldn’t break.

It was just a nightmare, he told himself. It wasn’t real.

But it had felt real. Too real. The darkness, the weight, the terror—it had been suffocating, like he couldn’t escape. His hands pressed against his ribs, as if trying to push away the memory of the crushing weight. It wasn’t over, not yet. Not until he could catch his breath.

Slowly, gradually, his heartbeat began to steady, the frantic pulse slowing, though his chest still heaved with each breath. The room was still empty. Still silent.

It was then that he saw it—the bottle of pills, half-emptied and sitting on the nightstand, the cap slightly askew.

His eyes locked on it, the temptation crawling in again like an old, familiar friend.

He wasn’t sure what made him do it—maybe it was the heaviness of his body still lingering, the last remnants of the paralysis clinging to him, or maybe it was the gnawing, insistent need to make it all stop.

His hand reached for the bottle before his mind could catch up, fumbling for the cap, twisting it open with shaky fingers. He didn’t think. Didn’t question it. His body moved on instinct, reaching for two pills. No hesitation. He tossed them in his mouth without a second thought, swallowing them quickly, the bitterness making his throat burn.

He closed his eyes as he leaned back against the bed, feeling the coolness of the sheets against his skin, the pills already beginning their work. The haze crept in again—slower this time, gentler, like an old friend pulling a blanket over him, dulling the edges of everything.

His breath slowed, the panic fading into something more bearable, more numbed. The pressure in his chest began to lift, and the tension that had been eating at him softened, as if a weight he hadn’t even realized was there was finally released.

The silence came back, this time with a sense of quiet that settled deep in his bones, soothing him, even if just for a moment. He let his eyes slip shut again, his body sinking into the mattress as the world around him blurred and softened.

It wasn’t sleep. But it was enough.

For now.

Rose scrolled but watched him

He woke with a start, his body tense, heart pounding in his chest. The remnants of his nightmare clung to him like a heavy fog, its grip still tight around his throat, making it hard to breathe. He gasped for air, his lungs aching, as though he'd been drowning in the suffocating darkness of his own mind. Sweat slicked his skin, and the room around him felt distant, blurry—as if he were still caught between two worlds.

He sat up abruptly, his back rigid, trying to push away the panic that was rising, clawing at his insides. The dream had been the same as always: suffocating, overwhelming, an endless spiral of dread. And when he thought it was over, when he thought he could finally breathe—it came back. The weight of his own chest, the deep, endless void of fear.

But the worst part was the silence that followed. The hollow, empty stillness that filled him up in the aftermath. That aching void that gnawed at him, even as he struggled to make sense of what was real.

The pills had dulled everything, but they weren’t enough. Not for this.

He ran a shaky hand over his face, trying to ground himself, to remind himself that he was here, in his room, and the nightmare was just that—a nightmare. But it still felt too real. Too close.

His gaze flicked to the bottle of pills sitting on the nightstand, the cap slightly askew. He felt that familiar, gnawing temptation creeping back in, urging him to reach for it. Just two more. Maybe that would be enough. But he fought it, the urge to dull everything, to numb himself again. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take, but he wasn’t going to rely on the pills.

Not tonight.

Instead, something in him snapped. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t lie in this bed with the pressure building again. He needed out. He needed to move.

Without a second thought, Caden swung his legs off the bed, his feet hitting the cold floor. He grabbed his hoodie from the chair, pulling it over his head, and slipped into his sneakers with the automatic motions of someone who had done this countless times before.

The world outside was still dark—quiet, save for the hum of the city in the distance—but that only seemed to push him harder. He needed the stillness, the peace of the world when it was empty, when no one else was awake. He grabbed his keys, locked the door behind him, and stepped into the cool morning air. The temperature was low enough to bite at his skin, the crispness of it sharp against his face.

He didn’t bother to think about the why or the how. He just started running.

The first few steps were slow, tentative, his mind still clouded, but soon the rhythm of his feet hitting the pavement began to take over. One foot in front of the other, pushing him forward. The cold air seared his lungs with each breath, but it felt good. It felt real.

His thoughts were scattered at first, a mess of fragments—his own shaky breath, the echo of the nightmare, the anger and guilt that were always close by—but as he moved, the world started to narrow. The streetlights flickered overhead, casting long shadows, and for a while, there was just the sound of his feet against the ground, the air rushing past him, and the steady thud of his heart.

Caden’s chest burned, muscles aching as the run pushed him harder, but he didn’t stop. There was something cathartic about the movement, the physicality of it, as if with each stride, he was outrunning the darkness that had a grip on him. The ache, the emptiness, it still gnawed at him, but for now, he could hold it off. For now, it was just the run.

The world felt so quiet, and yet, for once, it was the kind of quiet that he could handle. The kind that made him feel like he was still here, still fighting, even if it was just in small, fleeting moments.

The city was still sleeping, but with every step, he felt a little more awake. A little more alive. He kept running, pushing through the burn in his legs, pushing through the thoughts that tried to creep back in. For once, he didn’t want to stop.

Not yet.

Rose watched him leave. "Love you" She muttered, going downstairs and sitting on the couch

Caden’s feet hit the pavement hard as he ran through the quiet, empty streets of his neighborhood, the cool morning air stinging his lungs. He hated the fact that Coach Hawkins had called him out in front of the whole team, but the sting wasn’t just about the public humiliation. It was about the truth in what his coach had said. He wasn’t putting in the effort. Not anymore.

His mind was too cluttered, always elsewhere, and no amount of running was going to fix it. The anxiety, the pressure—it followed him no matter how far he ran.

He pushed harder, his legs burning as he fought to outrun the thoughts that were gnawing at him. The tension in his chest felt like it was suffocating him, and no matter how many miles he logged, it never seemed to ease. The race against his own mind was always the hardest.

Caden's mansion loomed ahead as he slowed to a walk, the sprawling estate sitting like a fortress in the distance. The sight of it, with its tall gates and manicured grounds, used to fill him with pride. But lately, it felt more like a prison. His parents had always been distant, more focused on their own lives than on his. The pressure they placed on him—expectations of success, perfection, achievement—had become a constant weight around his neck. And his brother, Viktor, who still lived back in Russia, was too far away to help.

The loneliness of it all gnawed at him, especially now. He felt like he was drowning in a world that didn’t care about what he wanted, only about what he could give.

He made his way to the side of the mansion, a quiet corner where he often came to think. No one would bother him here. Just the wind through the trees and the soft rustle of leaves. He sat down on the stone bench, wiping the sweat from his brow as he leaned back, trying to catch his breath.

There was no one around to hear him, no one around to see the cracks in his armor. He didn’t have any close friends here in town, just a few acquaintances who had no idea what was really going on. Viktor was the only one who ever seemed to understand, but they hadn’t talked in weeks. Even when they did, it was always surface-level. Viktor had his own life now, and Caden had his own problems to deal with.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts. He pulled it out, expecting another notification from his parents or maybe a reminder from the coach, but it was something different.

A message from an unknown number.

"I know what you’re hiding, Caden. It’s not just your coach that’s noticing."

His heart skipped. He stared at the text, confused. Who the hell was this?

"Meet me at the usual spot tonight. We need to talk."

Caden’s mind raced. His pulse quickened, anxiety creeping in as he tried to figure out who could possibly know. The "usual spot" could only mean one place—a small, abandoned alley behind an old café in town, where he’d been meeting with someone from his past. Someone who had always known how to get under his skin.

Caden wasn’t sure if he should be worried or just curious. But the last thing he wanted was more complications, especially with everything already spiraling out of control.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket, clenching his jaw as the weight of the message settled in. He could feel the familiar gnawing sense of dread rising in his stomach. He wasn’t sure what was coming, but he was certain of one thing—he didn’t have a choice anymore.

He couldn’t keep running from it. Not from the pressure. Not from the truth. Not from whatever was waiting for him tonight.

Rose scrolled while waiting for him