Chapter 12
Something pulls at me. Not hard. Not sharp. Just…there. Like I’m being moved through something thick, something slow, something I can’t quite fight or follow. The world doesn’t come back all at once. It bleeds in around the edges, distorted and wrong, like I’m hearing it through water.
Sound reaches me first.
Low. Broken. Voices, maybe.
I can’t tell how many. I can’t tell where they’re coming from. They blur together, rise and fall in tones instead of words, like my brain can’t quite catch up enough to make them mean something.
There’s movement too. Not mine. I try to focus on that. Try to understand it. But everything feels…delayed. Like I’m a second behind myself. Or ten.
My body doesn’t feel like mine. That’s the first thing that settles in clearly enough to recognize.
I can’t move. Not because something is holding me down.
Not because I’m trying and failing. I’m not even getting that far.
The thought forms, move, and then disappears before it turns into action.
My limbs feel heavy, distant, like they belong to someone else and I’m just… aware of them instead of inside them.
There’s a pulse somewhere. Slow. Too slow. Or maybe that’s me.
My breathing doesn’t feel right. Not painful. Just…not something I control.
In.
Out.
It happens without me. That should be comforting. It isn’t. Fear doesn’t come fast. It settles. Deep. Quiet. It doesn’t spike into panic, doesn’t make me thrash or scream. It sinks into my chest and stays there, heavy and steady, like something I’ve known before even if I can’t place when.
Something is wrong.
I know that.
I don’t remember how I got here. That matters. My mind reaches for it anyway.
Walking. Cold air. My mom’s voice in my ear. Footsteps. The memory fractures. A hand. Too fast. A voice too close.
Then...nothing.
The gap is sharp. It doesn’t blur. It cuts.
I try to open my eyes. I think I do. Light hits, but it’s wrong. Not steady. It shifts, flickers, moves across my vision in streaks instead of shapes. I can’t hold it long enough to understand what I’m seeing before it fades again. Dark returns. Not full. Just easier.
There’s a sound near me. Closer than the others. A voice. Low. Controlled. It cuts through the rest of the noise in a way nothing else does.
I don’t understand the words. Not fully. But I feel the tone. Not frantic. Not unsure. Certain. That should scare me. It doesn’t. Or maybe it does, just differently.
My body shifts.
No, I’m shifted.
Lifted.
The motion is smooth, not rushed. One second I’m still, the next I’m moving, and the transition is so controlled it takes a second for my brain to catch it. Arms. Around me. Strong. Firm. Not tight.
Just…there.
Heat follows. Solid. Steady.
I don’t feel cold anymore. That registers slowly. Before, there was cold. I remember that now. The air biting at my face, the way my hands tucked into my coat to keep it out.
Now…nothing.
Just warmth. The kind that doesn’t come from layers or movement. The kind that comes from something else. Someone else. That realization lands quietly. It doesn’t spike. It doesn’t send me scrambling.
I can’t scramble. My body won’t let me. But the awareness is there. I’m not on the ground anymore. I’m not alone. That should trigger something louder. It doesn’t. The fear stays where it was. Deep. Steady. Waiting.
The voice comes again. Closer this time. Still low. Still controlled. There’s something in it I can almost follow. Not the words, but the shape of them. The rhythm. It doesn’t rise. Doesn’t break. It moves like everything else around me is already decided.
My head shifts slightly. Not because I tell it to. Because something moves me. My cheek brushes against something solid. Fabric. Warm. There’s a smell. Leather. Smoke. Something darker underneath that I can’t name. It doesn’t feel unfamiliar. That doesn’t make sense.
Nothing about this should feel familiar.
My fingers twitch. Barely. The movement is so small I’m not even sure it happens, but the sensation follows a second later, like my body is trying to reconnect piece by piece.
I try again.
Nothing. The disconnect settles in deeper. That’s when the fear sharpens. Still quiet. Still controlled. But sharper now. Because I understand something I didn’t a second ago.
I can feel. I can hear. But I can’t respond. I’m inside it. Trapped behind it.
The voices shift again. More now. Different tones.
One lighter, faster, something like humor woven through it, even though I can’t catch the words. Another heavier, quieter, cutting through the first without trying.
The one holding me doesn’t change. That’s what I notice. Everything else moves around us. The grip stays steady. The heat stays constant. The position doesn’t shift unless it needs to. Like I’m something being held through movement, not moved by it. There’s a vibration under me. Low. Rhythmic.
It takes me a second to place it.
An engine. A vehicle. We’re moving. The realization doesn’t hit all at once. It builds. Slow. Wrong.
I’m being taken somewhere.
My chest tightens. This time the fear pushes higher. My breath stutters.
In.
Out.
It doesn’t change. I still don’t control it. My head tilts again. Light flashes across my vision, red and white and passing too fast to hold onto. Sound shifts with it, the hum of movement blending with distant noise that fades just as quickly.
The voice near me says something again. Closer. Lower.
I almost catch it. The shape of it brushes against understanding, then slips away. My body doesn’t react. But something inside me does. Not comfort. Not safety.
Recognition.
That word doesn’t fit. I don’t know him. I don’t know anything right now. But the feeling doesn’t need that. It settles in anyway. Quiet. Uninvited. There.
The movement slows. Then stops. The engine cuts.
The vibration fades with it, leaving behind a kind of silence that feels heavier than the noise did.
Doors open. Close. Boots on gravel. On pavement.
Voices again, sharper now, clearer in tone even if the words still slip.
Hands don’t leave me. Not once. The body holding me shifts, adjusts, but never lets go.
I’m lifted again. Or maybe I never stopped being held. The motion is different now. Up. Then forward. Steps. Steady. Each one measured. Controlled.
I try to open my eyes again. This time the light holds a fraction longer. Shapes form. Blurred. Dark against darker. Movement around us. Figures. Too many. Then gone again.
My head falls slightly, resting against that same solid point. Fabric. Heat. The smell again. Leather. Smoke. Something else underneath it that doesn’t resolve. My fingers twitch again. A little more this time. Still nothing I can use. But closer.
The fear presses harder now. Not loud. But deeper. Because I understand more than I did before.
I’m not waking up yet. And I don’t know where I’m being taken. Or why.
The voice comes one more time. Right above me.
Closer than anything else. Low. Certain.
It cuts through everything else again. Not the words.
The presence. That’s what reaches me. That’s what sticks.
And even with the fear sitting heavy in my chest, even with the darkness pulling me back under piece by piece, that’s the last thing that stays clear.
Not what he said.
Just…him.
Then everything fades again.