More dramaaaa)

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Cole stared at Tessa, feeling a sharp pang of pain rush through his chest as he saw the blood and the wounds. It was a scene that made his heart ache, but there was no time to grieve. Not now. He couldn’t afford to fall apart. “I can feel sorry for Tessa later... I just have to get us out of here,” he muttered to himself, his voice trembling slightly. His hands shook as he gently lifted Tessa, cradling her against his side. His heart thudded as he carefully supported her weight, his mind racing. ‘It can’t be this easy to escape,’ he thought, a part of him bracing for something worse.

His legs burned as he moved quickly, glancing around, half-expecting something terrible to happen. Then, just as they reached the door, it came. The siren.

The harsh wail cut through his thoughts like a blade, sharp and shrill. It was a sound that stirred rage and pain in him. His mind briefly shut down, overwhelmed by the noise and the realization that their time was running out. He pushed the thoughts aside, focusing all his energy on getting Tessa to safety. Every second counted.

With one last effort, he managed to get her out the door and into the open. But as soon as they hit the daylight, the moment of freedom was ripped away from him. The police were on them in an instant. Tessa was torn from his arms, and he could do nothing to stop it. His grip tightened as if he could still hold on, but it was useless. She was gone.

The police officer from the hospital stepped forward, his frown deepening as he looked at Cole. “You’re supposed to be in that ambulance. C’mon, get in,” he ordered, pointing toward the squad car.

Every muscle in Cole’s body screamed at him to resist. Don’t get in, his brain screamed in a frantic, panicked whisper. But his legs were already moving, a mind of their own. He stumbled forward, his steps almost automatic as he was ushered into the back of the police car. The doors slammed shut behind him with a finality that echoed in his chest.

As the engine roared to life, the car sped down the road, and Cole watched the world blur around him. Trees flashed past in a haze of green, but his mind was fixed on one thing: Tessa. Where’s Tessa? His heart raced as he pressed his hands against the cold metal of the back seat, the railing digging into his palms.

"Where are you taking me? Where’s Tessa?” he demanded, his voice rising in desperation.

The officer didn’t respond right away. The tension in the air was thick, and when the officer finally spoke, his words cut through the silence like a blade. “You are being charged with the kidnapping of Teresa Smith.”

The words hit Cole like a slap, and his mind scrambled to make sense of it. Kidnapping? Tessa? His stomach lurched. He couldn't remember anything clearly. What had happened? His thoughts were jumbled, and everything felt like a bad dream. No, I didn’t do it. His head spun, his vision blurring. Before he could react, everything went black, and he lost consciousness.

When Cole came to, everything was different. His body felt heavy, his limbs stiff. The sharp cold of metal pressed against him, surrounding him on all sides. He could feel the hardness of it under his hands and feet. Slowly, painfully, he rose up, his mind struggling to piece together what had happened. He squinted, trying to focus on his surroundings.

Four walls. Cold. Gray. Unforgiving.

He inhaled sharply, the air thick with the scent of iron and sterility. His heart raced as he realized he was in a cell—a prison. The harsh reality of his situation crashed into him. I didn’t do it, he whispered hoarsely to himself, his voice barely a sound in the stillness. His breath hitched, and doubt crept in. Maybe I had... maybe I did something? His mind swirled with confusion, and his memories felt fractured. He tried to grasp onto something—anything—but it slipped away like sand through his fingers.

“I need Tessa!” he shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "She can tell you the truth! She can—"

But his words were swallowed by the silence. There was no response. No movement. No footsteps. Nothing. It was as though the world had forgotten he existed. His heart pounded harder in his chest as he slammed his fists against the cold metal, desperate for someone, anyone, to hear him. But it was all in vain. The silence stretched out, suffocating him. It was the kind of silence that gnawed at your soul, making you question everything.

"So, this is what pure loneliness feels like," Cole murmured bitterly to himself.

He had never truly been alone. Not like this. There had always been some flicker of life around him, some presence to anchor him. But now? The walls closed in, and he was left with nothing but the sound of his own breath, the thudding of his own heart.

The silence was his only friend now. And it was a cruel companion.

Here’s your passage with enhanced sensory details:

---

Tess winced as rough hands lifted her, pain jolting through her battered body like a live wire. Her head lolled against a broad shoulder, and darkness pulled at the edges of her vision. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. This was just a cruel dream—a sick, twisted nightmare tormenting her with the ghost of her best friend.

Cole was gone. Dead. Or worse, he had sold her like she was nothing. A sharp pang shot through her chest, a wound deeper than the ones on her back. Had she ever meant anything to him? Or had she just been someone convenient, a caretaker rather than a friend? The thought curled through her like smoke, bitter and suffocating. He had fought, apologized, and fought again—a cycle she had excused too many times. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe, wherever he was now, he had finally found peace. Somewhere far from fights and far from her.

But he didn’t deserve peace. He didn’t deserve forgiveness. Not after this. Not after what they did to her because of him. The Cole she had known—the boy she had swum with in the river, the one who made her laugh until she couldn’t breathe—that version of him had been gone long before the flames swallowed him whole.

A sudden blare of sirens shattered the silence, yanking her violently from unconsciousness. Cold air crashed against her skin like ice water, and she gasped, her ribs protesting with sharp, searing pain. Her eyelids fluttered, vision swimming in a blinding sea of light and blurred movement. Every inch of her hurt—her head throbbed like it had been split open, her back burned with raw agony, and even the simplest movement sent fresh waves of pain radiating through her limbs. But none of that compared to the sharp jolt of terror that seized her when she saw him.

Cole.

His arms were around her, too tight, his grip crushing her aching ribs. He looked wrecked—bruised, swollen, a ghost of himself—but he was alive. The sight of him, real and solid, sent a fresh jolt of panic through her system. A strangled yelp escaped her throat as she thrashed weakly, trying to push away, but her strength was gone. Before she could struggle further, hands gripped her, pulling her from his grasp.

She hit the ground, curling in on herself as her body trembled uncontrollably. Tears welled in her eyes, hot and unwanted. This wasn’t over. It would never be over. The wailing sirens, the frantic voices, the cool hands of paramedics—it all blurred together into a dizzying, suffocating haze.

She barely registered being lifted onto a stretcher. The sting of antiseptic bit into the raw wounds on her back, the burn sending sharp daggers through her nerves. She flinched, but the hands tending to her remained gentle, methodical. They murmured reassurances, but the words barely reached her through the ringing in her ears. Her body was a mess—her back would scar, her nose had been shattered, and there was no telling if the pounding in her skull would ever fade. How had she even stayed conscious this long?

“Teresa, hun, can you hear me?”

The voice was soft, careful. It drifted through the fog like a distant echo. She tried to focus, tried to piece together the sounds, but it was like listening underwater—muffled, distorted, just out of reach.

Another voice, rougher this time. “Can you tell us what happened?”

She parted her lips, willing the words to come, but they never did. Instead, the darkness claimed her again, dragging her under before she could even try to resist.

When she woke, it was to sterile white walls and the steady beeping of a heart monitor. Her brows furrowed as she stared at the IV taped to her arm, the slow drip of fluid blending into the haze of exhaustion. Bandages wrapped her torso tightly, and a dull, persistent ache had settled deep in her bones. Even the act of breathing felt like an effort.

Someone entered the room a while later, carrying a tray with a plastic cup of water and a small portion of food. The sight of it made her stomach twist unpleasantly. She knew she needed to eat, but the thought of forcing anything down past the ache in her ribs made her feel sick.

Not long after, a man in a police vest stepped in, his face serious. His voice was measured, almost too calm as he spoke.

“You were kidnapped. We caught the guy.”

Her brows knit together as she processed the words. Kidnapped. Caught. She hesitated, mouth dry as she tried to speak. “Cole?” The name felt foreign on her tongue, distant. She shook her head weakly. “No… he wasn’t there when they took me.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but she needed them to understand. He hadn’t done this.

The officer exhaled sharply, his expression unreadable. “He came here last night,” he said carefully. “Looking for a Teresa Smith. We’re fairly certain it’s him.”

Her stomach twisted.

Cole had come looking for her.

But why? He'd been the one to put her here, right?

I think our posts keep getting longer and longer xD so good!)

-

Cole sank to his knees, his body heavy as the silence seemed to tear at him from the inside. The world around him felt like a void, empty and suffocating. He stared at the cold, unforgiving walls of the cell, and, in a low, broken voice, he whispered, “At least Tessa’s alive and okay.” He wasn’t speaking to anyone; the words were more like a fragile attempt to convince himself that there was still something to hold onto in the midst of the darkness that surrounded him. The silence, which was supposed to be comforting, to offer relief, instead seemed to amplify every haunting thought, every fear he had ever buried deep within himself.

The silence wasn't kind to him. It had a way of stripping away all the distractions, all the noise, and leaving him face to face with his worst fears. It was like the crushing weight of solitude had finally caught up with him, reminding him that he was utterly alone. There was no one to talk to, no one to guide him, no one to help him navigate the overwhelming sense of hopelessness that seemed to swallow him whole. He was stuck, abandoned, and trapped in a prison that felt both physical and mental. Forever alone.

Living in the slums had always been dangerous, but being accused of kidnapping had sealed his fate. The charges were a nightmare come to life. He wasn’t just stuck in the hell of his circumstances; he was now caught in a web of lies and deceit, and the world had already decided his fate. Prison loomed ahead, its walls closing in on him with every breath. He didn’t know how he had gotten here—didn’t know why he had been chosen for this cruel fate—but all he wanted was to talk to Tessa. To tell her he was sorry.

"I'm so sorry, Tessa..." The words slipped out as he clenched his fists, the pain of knowing he couldn’t undo what had been done gnawing at his insides. Even if it wasn’t entirely his fault, he couldn’t stop the wave of guilt that crashed over him. She had been hurt. She had suffered, and there was nothing he could do to take away that pain. The thought of her, of what she might be going through, twisted in his chest, leaving him breathless.

She’d been beaten. She’d been hurt. He couldn’t bear it. Not for her. Not for Tessa, who had always been his anchor. The pain was unimaginable, a raw and jagged thing, and he couldn’t escape the thought that maybe—just maybe—he could have stopped it. If only he had done something differently. If only he had seen the signs.

To him? Pain was something he had grown used to. It wasn’t easy to bear, but the physical pain was bearable. The emotional torment, though, that was something else entirely. Seeing Tessa hurt, knowing she was broken in ways he couldn't repair—that kind of pain was foreign to him. He had tried to ease her suffering with words, tried to tell her everything would be okay, but nothing he said had made it better. Nothing had been enough.

He cried out, the voices in his head rising louder and louder, drowning out everything else. “You’re worth nothing. To no one anymore,” they jeered. The words echoed inside his skull, relentless, like a cruel chant. “You’re a waste of breath.” “Good riddance.”

He staggered to his feet, his legs unsteady as he stumbled back toward the corner of the cell. The darkness was closing in on him, suffocating, and he tried to fight it, to push it away. “Stop! Stop! Leave me alone!” He screamed, but the voices only grew louder, more insistent, like a twisted chorus of condemnation.

He couldn’t escape them. The darkness became his refuge, his only friend in a world that had betrayed him. Its presence, though heavy and oppressive, offered him some kind of strange comfort. At least it kept him from seeing the cold metal bars of his cage, from remembering that he was a prisoner. He closed his eyes, letting the emptiness of the room swallow him whole.

Sleep was no escape, though. As soon as his eyes fluttered shut, the nightmares came, visions so twisted and dark that they left him breathless when he awoke. He had never imagined dreams like these, dreams that felt more like a cruel mockery of everything he had hoped for.

He awoke the next morning to the sound of footsteps outside his cell. The officer’s voice was sharp, cutting through the haze of his disorientated mind. “Turn around and place your hands behind your back.”

The door to the cell slammed open, reverberating off the stone walls, and Cole barely had time to react before the officer roughly yanked him to his feet. The cold, unforgiving metal of the handcuffs bit into his wrists as the officer pulled him through the narrow hallway. “We don’t take kindly to kidnappers or people who torture fellow humans,” the officer said with an air of finality, his words heavy with disdain.

Cole’s heart sank further as he was led into a dark room, the thick, iron door slamming shut behind him with an ear-splitting clang. The room was suffocating, an endless abyss of darkness that seemed to swallow him up whole. It was day outside, but here, there was no light. Just a heavy, oppressive blackness that felt as though it would never end.

“Please… please, I didn’t do anything,” Cole pleaded, his voice cracking. But the more he spoke, the more his words seemed to escalate the situation, pushing him further into the abyss.

He fell silent, exhaustion weighing him down, and the cold darkness of the room enveloped him. It was strangely calming, this void, this absence of light and sound. It offered him nothing but silence—and for the moment, that was all he wanted.

He closed his eyes and thought of Tessa. Where was she now? Was she still alive? Was she okay? The questions gnawed at him, but he had no answers. He would never have answers. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen her smile, the last time they had spoken without fear hanging over them.

“I guess I’ll never know,” he whispered softly, his voice barely audible in the stillness. His eyes burned with unshed tears as he whispered her name again. “I miss you, Tessa.” The words hung in the air, fragile and broken.

Yep, and this got veeerrryyy long. My bad xD)

Once the nurses had seen to her, Tessa was left in near enough peace. The police had said they’d need to talk to her again once she’d had some time to rest—the next morning, they’d said. It didn’t stop her mind from wandering.

Who were those people? She still didn’t know what they wanted. The man who had taken her was the same one who had been fighting with Cole a day or two before. At least, she thought it had been that long. She had been unconscious for god knows how long, and everything blurred together into one big nightmare. And it was a nightmare—the worst one imaginable. The kind that left scars, the kind she would never wake up from.

Cole—he had died. At least, she had gone thinking he was dead. He wasn’t. But he had ratted her out, too. He had put her in this situation. He had as good as done all of this to her himself. And yet, she couldn’t find it in herself to be angry. Not when he had been dead in her mind, not when she had spent those hours mourning the loss of her best friend. But he wasn’t that, was he? Not anymore.

It was insane. She loved him. Maybe not just as a friend—maybe as something more. It was a stretch, sure, but it was the truth all the same. She had thought he might feel… something for her, even if it was just enough to keep her safe. Just enough to stop him from sending her straight into hell. But he hadn’t. He had let them take her. He had taken everything from her—her home, her family, her safety.

And still, she couldn’t hate him. She would never hate him, no matter how much she desperately wished she could. This wasn’t some petty argument. This wasn’t her telling him to stop getting into fights. This was him putting her in real fucking danger. She could have died. She would have, if he hadn’t come for her.

That made it all the more confusing. Why would he come for her after what he had done? She didn’t understand it, couldn’t understand it.

What did I do wrong?

She shifted on the hospital bed, her body protesting as she rolled onto her side. Her back burned, her head pounded, and she had never felt more… helpless. She just wanted to go home. Her family had to be looking for her. Her brothers would have torn the city apart to find her, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine what her mother was going through.

People went missing all the time in the slums—especially young women like her. But she was okay. Hurt, scared, confused. But okay in the sense that she was alive. And eventually, she would go home. Eventually.

Once she found a comfortable spot to settle, she forced herself into an unsettling sleep. It was dreamless, mercifully so, but part of her wished it wasn’t. She wished she could have seen her family. Or even Cole. He had looked bad—worse than she had ever seen him. He might have done this to her, but he had gotten her out of it, too.

She could still see him in that burning building, flames licking at the walls, smoke curling around his beaten body. She couldn’t begin to imagine what had been going through his head. She couldn’t imagine how he had gotten out.

Was he getting the help he needed? Was he safe? Someone had to have seen to him. They wouldn’t have just left him like that, not after everything. He was used to pain—too used to it—but this was different. This had to be different.

He had to be in jail now, waiting to be questioned, locked away in some cell. But still, she hoped he was being looked after. She hoped he was warm enough. She hoped he had eaten.

And then, her thoughts came to an abrupt halt. A hand on her arm. She shifted groggily, looking up to see a nurse carrying a tray of food. “Try to eat something, dear. There are people waiting to talk to you,” the woman murmured. Tessa furrowed her brows, wincing as she tried to sit up. She took the tray with a quiet breath, nodding at the nurse.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She hadn’t expected her voice to sound so fragile. But it made sense. She had used it all up screaming the night before. Crying. Begging. Begging for them to stop. Begging for them to let her go. Begging for answers. Looking back, she wasn’t sure she wanted them anymore.

Once she had eaten, the nurse moved to the tubes in her arms, replacing them with new ones. One for fluids. One for pain. She felt the latter almost instantly, her muscles loosening, her head growing lighter. She sighed, pressing her head back against the pillow. “Can I get you anything?” the nurse asked. Tessa shook her head, and the woman gave her a soft nod before glancing toward the door. “I’ll send the police in, then, okay?” Tessa hesitated, but nodded.

The room filled with two officers—a kind-looking woman with short curls, and a man who was more rugged, though he offered her a pitiful smile. They started simple. “Alright, give me your full name,” the woman hummed. “Tessa Smith,” she whispered, looking down. The woman nodded, writing it down. “Okay. Age and date of birth?”

“I’m eighteen. I… I don’t know my birthday.” The man shot a glance at the woman, and Tessa flinched. She wasn’t sure if she had ever known her birthday. If she had, she had lost it somewhere along the way.

The man nodded before looking at her again. “And where are you from?” Her mind scrambled for an answer. A street name, something concrete. But there was nothing. Just the slums. “I—uhm. The slums.” The woman nodded, writing it down. Then, she exhaled. “Thank you for that. I know this will be hard, but I need you to walk me through everything. Step by step. Why were you in that house? What happened before? Who were you with?”

Tessa’s breath hitched, but she nodded. “That afternoon—before—it was Cole. We ran into a man. The same one who took me. They fought. We got away, but he found us again. We ran. It seemed okay for a while, but then Cole left, and when I tried to go home, they… they found me.” She explained the rest, her voice growing smaller with every word. The little house. The fire. The beatings. The way Cole had burned with it. By the time she finished, she was in tears. The woman sighed softly, offering her a tissue. “Okay, okay. Well done.”

“That’s enough for now,” the man said. But the woman hesitated, her expression thoughtful. “One more question, Ms. Smith,” she said carefully. “What is Cole to you? Friend? Boyfriend?” Tessa’s breath caught. He was her best friend. He always had been. “I…” She hesitated, then whispered, “He’s my best friend.” She glanced up at the officers, her voice barely audible. “Can I see him?” The two of them exchanged a look. The man nodded. “Yes. Soon. But for now, just rest.”

And then they were gone. Tessa exhaled shakily, sinking back into the pillows. She would see him. Not yet. But soon. She didn’t know what she would say. Didn’t know what she would feel. But more than anything, she wanted to know he was okay. Just like she always had.

Cole was dragged from his restless sleep and thrust back into the harsh light of reality. The brightness that filtered through the cell caused a sharp discomfort, making his eyes squint against its intrusive glow. "Where is that light coming from?" he muttered to himself. Usually, his cell was pitch black, a place where time and darkness melded together. But today, something was different. The illumination felt foreign, out of place.

"Come, your visitor is here," a voice echoed through the small, sterile room. A guard yanked him from the cot with surprising force, pulling him upright, his limbs stiff and aching from hours of uneasy sleep. He didn't have time to adjust before the guard began escorting him through the grim corridors. The walls seemed to close in tighter with every step, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something monumental was about to happen.

They arrived at a small room that felt eerily sterile, its fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. A cold steel chair sat at the center of the room, and Cole was directed to sit. He obeyed without protest, his mind a whirl of confusion and dread. There, in the silence of that small, sterile room, he waited. Time stretched on, dragging itself endlessly.

Minutes—hours?—passed in a blur, his thoughts tangled in the web of uncertainty. Who was his visitor? Why was he here? He glanced nervously around, his heart thundering in his chest. Every sound in the room seemed amplified—the creak of the door, the echo of footsteps, the hum of the fluorescent lights. Every minute felt like an eternity, and each passing second only heightened his anxiety.

Finally, the door creaked open. His breath hitched as he looked up, anticipating the face of whoever had come to see him. His gaze locked onto a figure in the doorway, and for a moment, his heart stopped altogether. There she was. Tessa.

But she was different. The Tessa he remembered—the one with the spark in her eyes, the one with a vibrant energy about her—was nowhere to be seen. The woman standing before him was tired, worn down by something far darker than anything either of them had ever imagined. Her face was strained, the bags under her eyes deep and dark, as though the world itself had been crushing down on her for far too long. She looked fragile, as though the weight of her experiences had finally started to break her.

Cole’s heart clenched. He had suffered, yes. He had been through hell, locked away in this cage. But how much worse had it been for Tessa? He had no idea what horrors had taken place in that house while he was locked away. The memory of the men who had hurt them both—who had taken everything—haunted him every day. But what about her? She was alone in that house when he wasn’t there. How could he possibly know what they had done to her? To a young woman who had already been through more than any person should ever endure?

The thought of it made his stomach churn, and he winced involuntarily. His eyes filled with tears as he looked at her, unable to hide the hurt and regret in his gaze. He reached for the phone-like device mounted on the wall, its cold metal surface a sharp contrast to the warmth of his trembling hands. He took a deep breath and, with a shaky hand, lifted the receiver to his ear.

Tessa hadn’t moved. She just stood there, looking at him through the thick glass that separated them. Her expression was unreadable, and Cole couldn't help but wonder if she hated him now. After everything that had happened—after everything she had gone through—was there any chance she still cared about him? Could she even look at him without seeing the monster he felt like?

He hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. The words he had prepared, the speech he had rehearsed in his mind countless times, were now nothing more than a jumble of broken thoughts. What could he possibly say to her? He had imagined this moment, dreamed of it, feared it, but now that it was here, he couldn’t find the strength to speak.

His voice cracked as he whispered, barely audible, "I’m sorry." The words felt hollow, inadequate, but they were the only ones he could manage.

He had imagined so many things he could say to her in this moment. How could he make it right? How could he fix what had been broken? But none of it felt like enough. None of it could undo the pain they had both suffered. He couldn’t undo the darkness that had marked their lives. He couldn’t change the past.

As he stared at her through the glass, his heart ached for her. She had been through so much already—more than anyone should ever have to bear. And for what? To serve the purposes of greedy, soulless men? To be torn apart by forces far beyond her control?

Cole swallowed hard, his voice catching in his throat. "Tessa..." He wanted to say more, to reach her in a way that would make things better, but he couldn’t find the words. His heart was in pieces, and he didn’t know how to fix them, let alone fix what had been broken between them.

The silence between them felt like an eternity.

Tessa wandered through the corridors once they climbed out of the car, her eyes squinting at the unnaturally bright lights that filled the whole place. It made her head pound, and she could only hope that whatever the nurse had given her was enough to keep the pain at bay until they got back. She stood by a desk as a man eyed her injuries while the police officer spoke for her. She was led to a small meeting room, where a few other people were waiting for their friends and relatives to join them. Some never would. Some had been wronged so deeply by their loved ones that they couldn’t bear to look at them. Tessa’s mind wandered slightly, wondering how she would even react. Would she see him and want to run away? Would she get angry? How would he react when he saw her? Would he be upset that she had left him in that house? That she hadn’t done more for him? Her thoughts spiraled, but she was quickly pulled from them as the police officer beside her spoke.

“I can stay if you’d like—know that you’re free to leave whenever you want. If anything he says worries you, let me know, hm?” she offered softly, placing a gentle hand on the young girl’s shoulder. Tessa nodded slowly. She would be listening to everything he said. Anything that felt off. Anything that hinted he had done this to her. Maybe he had said nothing. Maybe they had found her on their own. Or maybe he had said something, and it had all gone horribly wrong. She might never know, but something inside her told her she had to at least give the boy a chance. He was her best friend, after all. Something deep in her refused to see him as anything else. She just couldn’t picture him wanting to hurt her. She shook her head softly at the officer and offered a tired smile. “It’s okay. Thank you,” she whispered. She watched the woman wander off, then slowly took her seat in front of the glass. She grabbed the phone, twisting the wire between her fingers as she waited. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that it almost hurt. She had to tense her body just to keep herself from physically shaking.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but it felt like hours. It felt like she couldn’t breathe. And then—he rounded the corner. She froze, struggling to hold onto her breath as he sat down in front of her. Her mouth opened to say something, but she just… couldn’t. He didn’t look like Cole. Cole had a scruffy beard and was always covered in dirt. He always looked ready to leap into action. But this person in front of her… he was clean-shaven, his hair damp like he had just come out of the shower. He looked almost… pathetic. He was covered in burn marks, and she wanted nothing more than to rush over and see to him, to make sure he was comfortable and safe. But not right now. Right now, she just wanted to force a word out without breaking down.

Then, he started talking. She took a long moment to process what he was saying. Her name. An apology. What was he apologizing for? So, he had done something? She sighed, gripping the phone tightly, her gaze dropping to the counter in front of her. She forced the air out of her lungs, then tried to draw in a slow, steady breath. She glanced back up at him, praying for something—anything—she could say. Her brows furrowed as she desperately searched for words. Eventually, she lifted her eyes slowly. “Cole, I—” she stopped, swallowing hard as a lump formed in the back of her throat. Her chest felt tight. She closed her eyes for a moment, then whispered, “What happened?” She stared down at the counter as her eyes began to well up. She blinked hard, refusing to let any tears fall. She could usually find the positive in everything. She could usually flash a big smile and tell him that everything would be okay. But this time, she couldn’t. This time, it wasn’t okay. They had both been in real danger. They had both nearly died. “Cole,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, “what did you do?”

She kept her gaze down, as if trying to block out the thoughts racing through her head. But she could still feel it—the way her throat had burned as they hit her. The way her muscles had screamed in pain as she tried to get away. The dirt caked under her nails as she clawed at the ground, fighting with everything she had just to get to him. Because she had fought. She had fought hard for him. Even when she thought he had put her in this position. She just wanted him to be okay. Even if she didn’t understand it herself. God, what was wrong with her? Why did she let him have such a hold over her?

Cole held his breath, his chest tight with anxiety, as he closed his eyes, desperately trying to force the scenes back together in his mind. He waited for the familiar rush of images to flood his senses, hoping for something, anything, to snap into place, to give him a clue, a memory, a hint of what had happened. But it didn’t come. Instead, there was only silence. An empty, hollow void where his past should have been, stretching out endlessly before him.

He felt a cold shiver run down his spine as a wave of panic began to rise within him. Not a single image, not a single piece of his past came back. He had forgotten everything. His mind was a blank slate, wiped clean without warning, without reason. He didn’t know who he was, where he was, or how he had gotten here. The officer standing beside him shifted his weight, and with each step he took closer, Cole could feel a deep sense of unease settling over him.

The officer’s presence was becoming overwhelming, almost suffocating, and Cole’s heartbeat began to quicken, his skin prickling with discomfort. He tried to steady his breath, but it only seemed to make things worse. The more he fought to calm himself, the more his body betrayed him. His forehead creased involuntarily, a familiar sign of his rising anxiety. The nerves in his hands flared up, and they began to shake uncontrollably, despite his best efforts to hide it. He balled them into fists, but that didn’t help. It only made the tremors more noticeable.

He instinctively brought the phone up to his ear again, hoping to reach out, hoping for something to ground him, to give him clarity. But before he could even focus on Tessa and talk to her, the officer grabbed his arm with a force that sent a jolt through his body. The officer’s grip was firm, almost painful, as he began dragging him back towards the cell.

“No,” Cole muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, but the officer didn’t react. He only pulled harder, urgency in his movements.

As they reached the door, Cole’s eyes flicked towards Tessa one last time. Her eyes—those eyes that held so many unspoken words, so many lost moments—met his. In that brief, fleeting glance, he felt something stir within him, something deep and desperate. But it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t ready to go back. He wasn’t ready to face whatever lay beyond that door, to be consumed by that cold, lifeless cell again. He wasn’t ready to lose himself completely. Not yet.

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking with emotion. “Please don’t take me back.”

The officer didn’t answer. There was no comfort, no understanding. He just pulled Cole harder, indifferent to the plea. The door to the cell creaked open, the sound like a death knell to Cole’s fractured sense of self. He was shoved into the dim, sterile space, and the cold, unforgiving floor met him with a jarring thud. His body crumpled to the ground, exhausted, defeated.

Cole lay there for a moment, unmoving, as the reality of his situation settled in. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat louder than the last. His mind screamed, but the silence inside him only grew louder. There were no answers. There was only the emptiness, the overwhelming weight of not knowing.

With a violent shake, he forced himself to his feet, his legs unsteady beneath him. His eyes flicked to the metal door in front of him, that cold, unfeeling barrier between him and freedom, between him and everything he didn’t understand. His fists clenched, and without thinking, he rushed forward, slamming his hands against the door with all his strength, over and over, as though he could break it open with sheer will.

“I’m innocent!” he shouted, his voice raw, desperate, echoing off the walls of the cell. But no one would hear. No one would care. The words hung in the air, unanswered.

He paused, panting, his hands still pressed against the door as if it could somehow offer him the solace he craved. His mind raced, his thoughts scattered, but one image pierced through the chaos. Tessa. Her face, her eyes, the way she had looked at him before he was dragged away. He closed his eyes, her image flashing before him, and it was as if everything came crashing down all at once.

“I’ve failed you again, Tessa,” he whispered, his voice breaking as the weight of those words hit him like a tidal wave. He didn’t know what he had done, but he knew one thing with painful clarity—he had failed her. And now, locked in this cage, with no memory of how he had gotten here, there was nothing he could do to fix it.

The emptiness inside him deepened, stretching further with each passing second, swallowing him whole. He wasn’t sure what he had done, but he was sure that Tessa deserved better than this. Better than him.

And as the cold, hard reality of his situation settled in, Cole sank to his knees in the center of the cell, the weight of his failure pressing down on him like an unrelenting storm. All he could do was close his eyes and hope, against everything, that somehow, someday, the pieces of his past would fall back together. But for now, there was nothing left but the silence, and the crushing feeling that he might never be whole again.