Every Way Back To You

Chapter 22 （Rowan）

Rowan

The world looked normal from my window. Kids were out in little clusters, bundled against the chill in cheap plastic masks and oversized coats.

Some of them had parents trailing behind with coffee cups, half-supervising and half-scrolling their phones.

A few groups of older teens moved down the street with a more rowdy confidence.

Farther down, a trio of uni-aged kids stumbled around dressed as skeletons. All three were clearly sloshed and singing some nonsense I couldn't make out. Probably headed from one party to the next.

It was Halloween. The world had permission to wear masks and pretend things were fine. But for the first time in a while, I wasn’t pretending.

The past several weeks had been unexpectedly quiet.

If Marcus knew I was still alive, he hadn't bothered to come looking.

Maybe he decided it wasn't worth it. For once, it didn't hurt my feelings that someone didn't care enough to find me.

Without that shadow hanging over me, my life almost started to feel normal again.

I was supposed to go back to school next week, and the idea didn't send me into a full spiral anymore.

My stomach still twisted at the idea of being out by myself, but it was manageable now.

I'd been going over lesson plans the past few days, even emailed the headteacher to let her know I was easing back into things and on track to return on time.

It almost felt strange to think that I'd be back in the classroom soon. But for the first time since the hospital, I wasn’t dragging myself through every hour of the day. I was starting to believe that I might actually be okay.

I stepped away from the window and wandered to the kitchen table where my laptop sat open. A few folders and papers sat nearby. Lesson plans, half-finished notes, the bones of something that resembled the structure I was accustomed to.

I sat down and stared at the blinking cursor on the screen.

For a few minutes, I managed to type out some lines of material for my Year 11s.

Something about the early Cold War, spheres of influence, maybe.

Or the Berlin blockade. I couldn't focus long enough to tell the difference.

The words blurred together and got lost as my thoughts circled elsewhere.

I hadn't expected Eli to stick around this long. I should've because he'd never abandoned me before when things got messy. But after everything Marcus had drilled into me and convinced me to put distance between us, I didn't think he'd stay this time. He had every reason to walk away.

But he did stay. He kept showing up every day, quiet and steady and unshakably patient. He made space when I needed space, stayed close when I couldn't hold it together. And he somehow knew when to switch between the two without me having to say a word.

And he hadn't exactly been subtle about certain things lately. I'd seen the lingering glances. Heard the way his voice softened when he talked me through my anxiety attacks. Felt the way his hand brushed against my back when we passed too close to each other in the kitchen.

He never said anything outright, but he didn't have to. I wasn't blind.

I just didn't know what to do with it.

Part of me still flinched at what these changes in his behaviour had to mean.

Somehow, even after seeing me at my absolute worst, Eli still wanted to be near me.

We'd spent more time together in the last six weeks than we had since we were teenagers.

And not just coexisting and barely staying in touch but actually being in each other's lives again.

I wasn't bracing for him to leave anymore. I'd stopped questioning whether his help came with strings. I didn't know what this was turning into, but it didn't quite scare me the way it used to.

Maybe I should just ask him.

Things were easier back when I knew exactly where I stood with him. Eli didn't see me that way before Marcus came into the picture, and I'd made peace with it. I could tiptoe around the edges of it and tuck the feelings away where they couldn't hurt anyone.

But now the lines were blurred. Now he was meeting me in the middle – and I didn't know if I should stay silent or finally say something.

Maybe he was waiting for me to be ready... And maybe I finally was.

My phone buzzed in the sitting room.

I didn't think anything of it at first. Probably just a work email or Eli checking in. I let it sit for a few minutes as I tried to keep my focus on a half-formed sentence on my laptop. The words didn't want to come together, though, and it didn't take long for me to give up.

With a sigh, I stood and made my way to the sofa. My phone sat where I'd left it balanced on the armrest, the notification light in the corner blinking on and off. I picked it up and tapped the screen.

One new text. The number wasn't saved in my contacts, and I didn't recognise it. Stupidly, I opened the app to read the message: Still alive, eh? You're a tough little cockroach.

It didn't compute at first. I just stared at the words, assuming it must be a spam text from someone with too much time on their hands looking to scare people on Halloween. Probably a kid who'd seen too many horror films.

Then my mind went somewhere darker.

I'd blocked Marcus weeks ago. I didn't want to risk seeing his name pop up while I was still sorting through the wreckage in my own head. But he could find a way around that. All he had to do was get a new number.

My hand went slack, and the phone slipped from my grip. It hit the floor with a dull thud as my legs gave out and I dropped onto the sofa.

My chest tightened, but I forced myself to breathe through it. I reminded myself it was just a prank, some arsehole bored on Halloween sending random texts to random numbers. The kind of thing people did for laughs. It could've come from literally anyone.

Just a coincidence. A bad one. That's all.

Still, my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

I leaned down to pick up the phone. The message stared back at me, making my skin crawl all over again. This was just proof I wasn't past it all yet. My nerves were still frayed. I was still wired for danger, still too raw to read a stupid message without spiralling.

My phone buzzed again. I flinched so hard I nearly threw it on a reflex.

The new message slid onto the screen just beneath the first one: So you did block me. That's alright. No hard feelings, Ro.

My stomach dropped. A prank text wouldn't use my nickname.

This wasn't spam. It was Marcus.

I should've deleted the messages right then and there and blocked the new number. Cut him off entirely. I knew that was the only way to break free of him. But I couldn't move. I just stared at the screen, and it didn't take long for a third message to come through.

Thought for sure I finished the job. Guess your little friend found you in time?

I practically threw the phone back onto the table.

My chest seized. The room suddenly felt smaller as the walls closed in from all sides. I couldn't catch my breath. No matter how hard I tried to pull in air, it wasn’t enough. My vision tunnelled. Every background noise in the flat got lost under the roaring in my ears.

I pressed my hand to my chest, trying to slow the frantic pounding of my heart, but it didn't help. Nothing helped.

I'd let myself believe it was over. That I was safe. That maybe I was finally clawing my way back to something normal. But he was still here. Still poking at me. Still finding new ways to get under my skin. I wasn't free. I was never going to be free.

I suddenly got the urge to get up and pace – but I didn't dare. The room was spinning. My fingers tingled. My knees felt like they'd give out if I tried to stand. My vision blurred and warped like a bad acid trip. I gripped the edge of the sofa to keep myself steady, but it wasn't enough.

Then a single clear thought cut through the noise: Call Eli.

I lurched forward, nearly knocking the phone off the table again as I grabbed for it. My hands shook so hard I almost dropped it just trying to unlock the screen. Somehow, I found his name in my contacts and managed to tap on it.

The ring barely lasted a second before he picked up. "Hey, I was just – "

"He's back." The words tore out of me. Hoarse. Broken. Not even fully formed.

There was a pause. "What?"

"Marcus," I forced out. Trying to talk was making the room spin harder. "I – I don't know – he's – "

His tone snapped straight into urgency. "Okay – Hey. Ro. Stay put. I'm coming right now. I'll be there in two minutes."

The line went dead. I stared at the screen before turning the phone off and dropping it onto the sofa. Two minutes. I just had to hold it together for two minutes.

But then a new thought punched through my ribs and drove the air out of me.

I couldn't remember if I locked the deadbolt.

I usually did. Always did, lately. But this morning...? Or whenever I last came in... My brain scrambled for the memory and came up with nothing but static.

I twisted in my seat, trying to see the front door from where I sat. But between the haze in my vision and the angle, I couldn't tell. The chain was on. Maybe. But I couldn't clearly see the deadbolt. And now all I could see in my mind was Marcus waiting on the other side.

My panic rose again. What if he was actually out there?

The thought made my pulse hammer against my chest. I forced myself to move and pushed off the cushion, my hands digging into the arm of the sofa for leverage.

The room immediately tilted.

I got one foot under me. Then the other. I was standing, but only barely. My knees shook under my weight. I gripped the back of the sofa with both hands and tried to breathe through the dizziness, but I couldn't even straighten up without the edges of the room going dark.

I couldn't hold myself upright anymore. My legs finally buckled, and I slid down to the floor. The drop was slow and awkward. My knees gave out until I was crouched low, and then I folded in on myself.

I leaned back against the sofa and pressed a hand over my mouth to keep the noise in. I didn't know if I was about to cry or scream or hyperventilate loud enough for the whole fucking building to hear.

I couldn't let that happen. If Marcus was outside...

My vision swam again. The hand over my mouth was making it worse. I couldn't get air in or get it out fast enough. Every breath just came tighter, shallower.

What if he was in the building? What if he'd been watching me from the street? What if the next sound I heard was the lock turning? My fingers clenched uselessly against the carpet. I couldn't breathe.

Then a knock. Short. Sharp. I flinched like a gun had gone off next to my ear.

"Ro, it's me."

Eli's voice cut through the noise in my head. Not Marcus.

I exhaled so fast my chest caved in. My body sank forward, and I nearly collapsed from the sheer force of it. Eli was here.

I dragged in a breath and forced myself to move.

One hand pressed against the floor, then the other.

I tried to stand, but my legs didn't want to cooperate.

I had to move on all fours to make my way to the door.

The carpet felt rough against my palms, and every inch forward felt like a mile.

My muscles trembled with the effort and barely held me upright.

Eli called through the door again, sharper this time. "Ro? Rowan!"

I crawled the last few feet and somehow pulled myself up against the doorframe. My head swam as I stared at the locks.

The deadbolt wasn't latched. Neither was the chain.

Shit.

I didn't have time to spiral over that. I fumbled for the doorknob with shaking fingers, turned the lock, and pulled the door open just wide enough. Eli was already halfway through the motion of knocking again when it swung inward.

He caught the door with one hand and dropped to his knees when he saw me slumped against the door jamb. His hands found my face, gently but firmly guiding my gaze up to meet his. "Hey. Look at me, Ro. It's just me. No one else."

I couldn't hold his eyes. They were too calm, too focused.

His hands cupped my face more securely. "He's not here. You hear me? He's not here. It's just you and me."

My chest hitched again. My lungs just refused to work right. I barely had the energy to shake my head.

"I need you to breathe, okay? Slow, like this." He inhaled deep, audible, exaggerated so I could follow. Then he let it out in a long, steady breath. "Come on. In ... and out."

I forced a breath in. Then out. It caught halfway. It felt like my lungs were collapsing in on themselves, but I kept trying to match the way he did it. Counted each inhale against the rise of his shoulders, timed each exhale with the fall of his chest.

I leaned forward until our foreheads touched. I needed something solid to anchor to, and he was the only thing that felt real in that moment.

My fingers found the front of his jacket and curled into the fabric. I didn't even realise how tightly I was holding on until the muscles in my arm started to cramp. My hand was shaking so bad I was afraid I'd rip the damn thing, but Eli made no move to pull away.

"That's it. You're doing good, Ro. Stay with me."

The panic finally began to fade a little bit at a time until I could at last take a full breath without choking on it. The room stopped spinning. My chest ached, but at least I could breathe through it.

The exhaustion hit right behind it.

I let out a shaky breath and sagged a little more against him. His hands continued to gently hold my face, thumbs brushing slowly across my skin as if to smooth the panic away.

Then he leaned in to press a soft kiss to my forehead. "You're okay, Ro. I've got you."

I couldn't help but lean into him. My arms slid around his neck, unsteady and still shaky. I buried my face into his shoulder and held on as I tried to catch my breath.

He didn't move. He just stayed there and held me upright while the last of the panic finally bled out of my system.