The night was too quiet.
Too still.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the faint shadow of the curtains sway with the breeze. The house felt enormous, not just in size, but in silence. Every tick of the clock, every whisper of wind against the glass made me more aware of how awake I was.
Sleep wouldn't come.
It hadn't since the ball.
My chest felt tight, as if invisible fingers were wrapped around it, pressing, squeezing. Every time I closed my eyes, flashes of that night came back, the cold press of a blade, Jackson's voice in my ear, the helplessness that crawled through my veins. I turned on my side, clutching the sheets. The air felt too thin, like I was breathing through a straw.
You're fine, I told myself. You're home. You're safe.
But my mind didn't believe it. My body didn't either.
The silence stretched again, mocking me. My heart pounded so loudly I could hear it in my ears. Then came the trembling, my hands first, then my shoulders. I sat up, gasping, trying to take a deep breath, but it came out in sharp, broken pieces. The room started to blur, the edges fading as panic took over.
I pressed a hand to my chest, but it didn't help. The world tilted, and before I knew it, I was on the floor, the cold marble biting against my knees.
"Martha," I tried to call out, but my voice barely rose above a whisper. My throat closed up, the air refusing to come.
And then the door flew open.
"Ava?"
His voice.
Deep, sharp, but laced with something I'd never heard before. Worry.
Alex crossed the room in a few strides. "What the hell happened?" His tone wasn't angry, not really, just startled. He crouched beside me, his hands hovering, unsure where to touch. My breath came in short, jagged bursts, tears spilling before I could stop them.
"I can't..." I gasped. "I can't...breathe."
He froze, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before he moved, fast. His hands gripped my shoulders gently, grounding me. "Look at me," he said, his voice low, firm, but not harsh. "Ava. Look at me."
I tried, but my vision kept shaking. His face came in and out of focus, but his voice...that stayed constant, like a rope pulling me back.
"Breathe with me," he said, his tone softening. "In… slow… like this." He inhaled, exaggerating the movement so I could follow. "Now out."
I tried again. Failed. Tried once more. My chest burned, but his voice stayed there, steady, patient.
"In… out. That's it. You're okay. You're okay."
After what felt like forever, the air started to come back. My breaths were still shaky, but at least they were there. I clung to his voice like a lifeline.
When the trembling slowed, I realized I was crying. My face was wet, my throat raw. I tried to speak, to apologize, but the words tangled.
Alex exhaled quietly, rubbing a hand down his face. "You should've called someone," he murmured.
I laughed weakly, the sound breaking halfway through. "Didn't think I'd need a babysitter to breathe."
His gaze flicked to me, sharp, unreadable, but he didn't reply. Instead, he stood, disappeared for a moment, and came back with a glass of water. He crouched again, offering it to me. I took it with trembling fingers, trying to avoid his eyes.
But I could feel him watching me.
When I finally looked up, something in his expression softened, the faintest crack in his usual composure. "You're pale," he said quietly.
"I'm fine," I whispered.
"You're not."
He was right, but I didn't argue. I couldn't. My body felt heavy, drained. I climbed back onto the bed, sitting upright, knees drawn to my chest.
He stood there for a while, like he was debating whether to leave. The silence stretched again, thick and tense. Finally, I said, "Can you… stay?"
He blinked, almost like he thought he'd misheard me. "What?"
"Just..." I swallowed hard, avoiding his eyes. "Just for a little while. I don't want to be alone."
His jaw tightened, and for a moment I thought he'd refuse. But then he sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and quietly said, "Alright."
He removed his shirt, probably to be comfortable, though the movement sent a wave of warmth through my face. He lay beside me, careful to keep his distance. I could feel the heat radiating off him even from inches away.
But distance didn't help. The silence between us hummed like static.
I hesitated before shifting closer, until my head rested lightly against his chest. He stiffened, just for a second, then exhaled, long and quiet. His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear, grounding and real.
"Better?" he asked softly.
I nodded, too exhausted to lie.
His hand hovered near my arm before settling gently against my shoulder. The gesture was awkward, unsure, like he wasn't used to comforting anyone. But it worked. My chest loosened, and the heaviness in my lungs finally lifted.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He didn't reply, but I felt the faintest movement against my hair, a nod, maybe.
Minutes passed. The silence no longer felt suffocating. It felt... safe. Strange, but safe.
And as my eyes fluttered shut, the last thing I felt was his heartbeat, steady, unyielding, under my palm.
For the first time in days, I wasn't afraid.