SEBASTIAN’S POV
I don’t remember when the sound of gunfire stopped echoing in my ears. It was as if I’d carried the weight of those bullets with me, each one heavier than the last.
By the time I walked into the house, my body was on autopilot, my hands still trembling from gripping the gun.
Twelve men.
Their faces blurred together in my mind, none of them familiar. None of them personal. And yet, their deaths sat on my chest like a brick. Did they deserve it? Did I?
I didn’t know. I couldn’t think.
The door shut behind me with a faint click, but the sound might as well have been a cannon.
My ears rang louder, my heart thundering. I was soaked-though whether it was blood, sweat, or the rain outside, I couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. I didn’t stop to check.
It wasn’t until I saw her that the numbness began to crack.
Sasha.
She had been coming down the hallway, her expression soft, maybe even hopeful-until she saw me. She froze mid-step, her hand instinctively going to her chest, her lips parting.
“Sebastian,” she said, her voice so faint I wasn’t sure if I’d heard it or imagined it.
I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. What could I even say? I cursed under my breath and tore my gaze away from her, heading straight for the bathroom.
The door slammed behind me as I leaned against it, trying to breathe. My chest heaved as I stared down at my hands.
They were stained-crimson streaks beneath my nails, dried flakes along my knuckles. I flexed my fingers, watching the blood crack and fall like ash.
I moved to the sink, my body on autopilot again. The water rushed cold and fast as I scrubbed at my hands, the soap suds turning pink and swirling down the drain.
I made the mistake of glancing at my reflection.
It wasn’t me staring back.
The man in the mirror looked feral, his hair damp and clinging to his forehead, his eyes sunken and rimmed red.
There was blood smeared across his cheek-a reminder of how close I’d come to losing myself completely.
I wanted to smash him.
My first flight before I even registered the thought. The mirror shattered, shards raining into the sink, some slicing into my hand, but I didn’t care.
I hit it again. And again.
Each punch brought a guttural scream from my chest, each one louder than the last until my throat burned.
The sound of breaking glass wasn’t enough. It could never be enough.
My knuckles throbbed, the cuts deep and stinging, but it wasn’t enough.
“Sebastian!”
Her voice cut through the chaos, sharp and desperate.
The door burst open, and Sasha was there, rushing to me without hesitation despite the mess I’d made.
“Stop!” she pleaded, grabbing my wrist before I could swing again. Her hands were warm, trembling, but firm. “Please stop.”
Her words pierced through the haze of rage and despair.
My arm fell limp at my side as I stood there, panting, staring at her. She didn’t flinch at the blood on me or the blood now on her from touching me.
Sasha stepped closer, her arms encircling me before I could say a word. Her warmth swallowed me whole, and for the first time that night, I felt something other than the crushing weight of what I’d done.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice soothing even as it broke. “It’s going to be okay.”
I couldn’t hold it together anymore.
My body sagged against hers, and before I knew it, I was crying.
Not the quiet, controlled kind of crying I’d mastered over the years, but the kind that shook my whole body. The kind that tore out of me in raw, agonising sobs.
She held me through it all, her hands running up and down my back, her cheek resting against my shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she repeated, her words like a lifeline. “I’ve got you.”
Minutes passed-or maybe hours. Time had no meaning anymore. All I knew was the way her arms never wavered, the way her presence kept me grounded when I felt like I was spiralling.
When I finally pulled back, her face was streaked with tears of her own.
“I’m sorry,” I croaked, my voice barely audible.
“Don’t,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “Don’t apologise.”
“I don’t know how to-” My voice broke again as I tried to find the words. “I don’t know how to make it stop. The noise, the blood… It won’t stop.”
She cupped my face in her hands, her touch gentle yet unyielding. “Sebastian, look at me.”
I forced myself to meet her gaze, though it hurt more than any of the cuts on my hands.
“You’re not alone,” she said, her voice steady. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “I don’t know how to forget.”
Her expression softened, a mix of love and heartbreak. “Then let me help you.”
Her words were a balm to a wound I hadn’t realised was festering.
I didn’t deserve her.
But at that moment, I needed her more than I needed my next breath.
“Please,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Help me forget.”
She nodded, her eyes never leaving mine. “I will.”
Sasha reached for my hands, her fingers brushing over the cuts. “But first, we need to take care of this, okay?”
I nodded, unable to speak, and let her lead me out of the bathroom.
Sasha didn’t say much as she tended to my wounds.
She worked in silence, her touch careful as she cleaned the cuts on my knuckles and bandaged them.
Her brows were furrowed in concentration, but every now and then, her gaze would flicker to mine, as if to reassure herself I was still there.
I wanted to thank her, to tell her how much it meant to me, but the words felt too small, too insignificant.
When she was done, she stood and offered me her hand.
“Come with me,” she said softly.
I didn’t ask where she was taking me. I just followed, trusting her completely.
She led me to our bedroom and guided me to sit on the edge of the bed. Then, to my surprise, she disappeared into the closet.
When she returned, she was holding one of my old shirts-the soft, worn kind I rarely wore anymore.
“Put this on,” she said, handing it to me.
I hesitated, but the look in her eyes left no room for argument.
Once I’d changed, Sasha climbed into bed beside me, pulling the covers over both of us. She curled up against me, her head resting on my chest, her hand over my heart.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered.
Her words were a promise, one I clung to with everything I had left.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the noise in my head began to quiet.
And for the first time in even longer, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright.