34. Sadie
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Sadie
The walls felt like they were closing in, pressing against my ribs and squeezing the breath from my lungs. My pulse pounded, a frantic drumbeat that rattled my bones.
I gripped the edge of the bathroom sink so tightly my knuckles turned white, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough to ground me.
I forced myself to meet my own gaze in the mirror. My reflection was a stranger—wild, panicked eyes, skin too pale, too clammy, like all the life had been drained from me.
I looked like someone on the edge of breaking. And maybe I was.
The nightmare clung to me, wrapping around my throat like hands intent on squeezing the air from my lungs.
I could still hear the impact, metal crumpling like paper, the shriek of tires, the deafening silence that followed. I could still see the flames swallowing them whole, feel the heat licking at my skin, smell the sharp, acrid scent of burning fuel.
Samuel. Kai. Adam.
Gone.
Just like that.
My body convulsed with a silent sob, my nails digging into the porcelain. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. But it felt real. It felt too damn real.
Because I knew how this story ended.
I had lived it before… different faces, different names, but always the same pain. Always the same loss. I had fought so hard to keep my heart guarded, to keep people at arm’s length, but they’d slipped through the cracks, burrowed deep, tangled themselves into the very fabric of me.
I had let them in. And now I would lose them.
Because that was what happened when I loved someone.
They didn’t stay.
They couldn’t.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the images away, but they wouldn’t fade. I could still see them… bloodied, broken, slipping through my fingers like sand. And I was powerless. Just like before.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my chest so tight it hurt.
I couldn’t do this.
I couldn’t survive losing them, too.
And maybe… maybe if I pulled away now, I wouldn’t have to.
I had lost everything once before.
My parents. My home. My entire world, all ripped away in a single, merciless moment.
One accident, one cruel twist of fate, and I had been alone. No warning, no time to prepare. Just an empty house, hollow echoes where laughter used to be, and a grief so sharp it carved me from the inside out.
And then, years later, I had let someone in. I had let myself believe in safety again.
And he had been a monster.
My stomach twisted, nausea rolling through me in violent waves. Owain’s voice slithered through my mind, cruel and cutting, dripping with the same venom it had in that last fight.
You think you’re special?
You think anyone else will put up with you?
I had given him too much power. I hadn’t seen the red flags until I was drowning in them.
At first, he had made me feel wanted, needed. Then, slowly, he had chipped away at me—word by word, wound by wound—until I barely recognized myself anymore.
And when I had finally fought back, when I had clawed my way toward freedom, he had tossed me aside like I was nothing.
I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the memories away, but they clung to me, sticky and relentless.
That was over. I was safe now.
Wasn’t I?
The thought sent a fresh wave of panic crashing through me. I pressed a hand to my stomach, feeling the rapid thrum of my pulse beneath my palm.
I was having a baby. A baby who deserved warmth, protection, love. A baby who deserved more than loss.
I couldn’t let my child suffer the way I had.
I couldn’t make the same mistakes.
But had I already?
I had let my guard down. I had let myself sink into their warmth, their love, their promises of forever. I had started to believe in something dangerous… something I should have known better than to trust.
Home.
Family.
Safety.
And now, Owain’s text. The nightmare.
It was too much.
I opened my eyes, my reflection staring back at me, raw and hollow.
I had survived so much. But what if I was walking straight into another storm?
Tears blurred my vision as I grabbed a piece of paper from the nightstand. My hand shook so badly I could barely hold the pen, but I forced myself to write through the tremors.
I’m sorry. I can’t do this. Please don’t look for me.
The words felt hollow, but I didn’t know how else to say it. I didn’t even understand it myself—this relentless ache, this gnawing fear that chewed through every piece of warmth I had let myself believe in.
A sob clawed up my throat, but I pressed my hand to my mouth, swallowing it down. If I let it out, if I hesitated for even a second, I would break.
And if I broke, I would stay.
I couldn’t stay.
The house was silent as I crept toward the door, every breath held so tightly in my chest it burned.
Every creak of the floorboards sent a spike of panic through me. I braced myself for the sound of my name, for one of them to reach for me, to stop me.
But no one did.
They trusted me.
I had let them believe in forever. But how many times had I believed in forever, only to watch it shatter?
A sharp pain stabbed through my chest, but I shoved it down, shoving everything down until all that was left was the need to move.
I stepped out into the night. The cold air hit me like a slap, stinging my skin and stealing my breath. I didn’t stop. I walked fast, head down, pushing forward. The town blurred past me.
The Foundry, standing strong against the wind, a ghost of everything I was leaving behind. With every step, doubt clawed at me, thick and suffocating.
This felt wrong.
Like I was unraveling something I couldn’t stitch back together.
I told myself I was protecting them. Protecting them from me, from my past, from whatever curse seemed to follow me like a shadow.
What if you’re wrong? a voice whispered in my head. What if this time, they stay? What if this time, you don’t have to run?
I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my feet to keep moving, forcing my heart to harden against the longing, the love, the hope I had no right to hold.
The nightmare twisted through my thoughts… the truck flipping, their bodies broken, their voices crying out for me.
It wasn’t real, I reminded myself.
But leaving them? That was.
Still, it could be real.
That was the problem.
The thought clawed at my insides, sharp and relentless, my breath coming faster, my chest aching beneath the weight of my own fear. The town blurred behind me, fading into the night, but I didn’t know where I was going… only that I had to keep moving. Keep running.
Then, up ahead, a flickering neon motel sign buzzed faintly, its sickly shine dancing over the cracked pavement. The place was nothing special. Just another stop on the way to nowhere.
Just another place to disappear.
My fingers curled around the crumpled bills in my pocket, my pulse a frantic drumbeat in my ears.
Run. Stay. Run. Stay.
A war raged inside me, but my feet moved before I made the choice.
The motel room smelled like stale air and something vaguely rotten beneath the overpowering bite of industrial cleaner. The walls were thin, and somewhere nearby, a TV murmured with low, crackling static.
The bedspread was stiff beneath my fingertips as I stumbled forward, my knees nearly buckling. I didn’t care. None of it mattered.
Because I wasn’t supposed to be here.
My breath hitched, and I pressed a shaking hand to my chest, my lungs seizing, squeezing so tight I thought I might choke on the pressure.
Too fast. Too sharp. Not enough.
The walls shifted, warping around me, pressing in until the room was too small, too tight, too wrong. The motel lamp cast dim, flickering light, its shadows stretching long and twisted, curling like ghosts in the corners.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
That was a mistake.
Because then, I saw it all.
The flashing red and blue lights outside my childhood home.
The wreckage of my parents’ car… crumpled metal, shattered glass.
The social worker’s too-kind voice, her hands folded over mine, telling me that nothing would ever be the same again.
Then Owain’s face.
That cold, cutting smile he had given me when I tried to leave.
The way his fingers had sunk into my wrist, bruising, punishing.
No one else will want you, Sadie. You know that, don’t you?
His voice slithered through my mind, slick as oil, dripping with something that had once felt like love but had always been control.
No one stays.
No one stays.
No one stays.
A choked sob wrenched free from my throat, raw and aching. My knees buckled, the last bit of strength draining from my body as I collapsed onto the bed.
I curled in on myself, my arms wrapping tight around my trembling frame, my fingers digging in as if I could physically hold myself together… keep the cracks from spreading, keep from completely shattering.
But I was already breaking.
Tears burned hot against my skin, spilling down my cheeks and soaking into the hard motel pillow. My breath hitched and stuttered, my chest tight with the pressure of holding too much, of trying too hard to pretend I was okay.
I wanted to stop.
I wanted to gather the broken pieces of myself, to force them back into place, to be strong, to be fine.
But I wasn’t fine. I was drowning.
Kai. Adam. Samuel.
Their names throbbed in my mind like a wound left open.
I should never have let them in. Never let myself believe in them. Never let myself taste the warmth of something I could never keep.
Because now, here I was… alone. Again.
Gasping for air in a cheap motel room, the walls pressing in, the silence deafening.
I squeezed my arms tighter, rocking slightly, trying to soothe the shaking, the panic, the unbearable absence. My body ached for comfort, for safety, for them. But I had ripped myself away. I had made my choice.
And now, I had to live with it.
I didn’t know how long I lay there, lost in memories, suffocating beneath the weight of grief and fear and regret.
The past had its claws in me. And no matter how far I ran, it always dragged me back under.
I needed to put an end to this once and for all.
My hands shook as I pulled out my phone, my pulse hammering so hard it drowned out everything else. My thumb hovered over Owain’s message, the words seared into my mind like a brand.
Sadie. We need to talk.
A cold shudder rippled through me. My chest felt tight, my lungs struggling to pull in enough air. Every instinct screamed at me to ignore it—to shove the phone away, to pretend he wasn’t still lurking in the corners of my life.
But I was done running.
I clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening around the phone as I forced myself to type.
No, we don’t. Stay away from me.
My breath hitched, my heart slamming against my ribs as I hovered over the send button. The weight of a thousand memories threatened to crush me, his voice, his touch, his twisted version of love.
No more.
I hit send.
And then, before doubt could sink its teeth in, before fear could paralyze me, I blocked his number.
The silence that followed was deafening.
I stared at the screen, my reflection faint in the black glass. My chest heaved, my entire body trembling from the aftershocks of something that felt terrifyingly close to freedom.