Trust Fall

Prologue

“Move, she may be hurt!”

The words cut through the chaos like a blade, sharp and commanding. A familiar voice, one I haven’t heard in years, fills the air. I feel hands pressing against me, assessing, searching.. My body aches as though I’ve been hit by a freight train, every nerve lit up with pain. Why do I hurt so much? What happened?

“I said move, NOW!”

That voice again. It’s starting to sound desperate, though it feels distant, like it’s coming from the other side of a thick fog. My ears begin to ring, a high-pitched whine drowning out the panic around me.

“I got you, Little Bird.”

That name. My stomach twists at the sound of it. Only one man calls me that. No. It can’t be him. Not in a group setting. Everyone will see his face. Everyone will know who he is. My mind reels as I fight against the disorientation, the ache, the cold numbness creeping in. I force my eyes open to see who this man is, who the familiar voice belongs to, but the world is a smear of colors and shadows. Everything is blurry, indistinct. The man who spoke, who dared to call me by that nickname, is nothing more than a vague outline looming over me. Could it really be him? Is he here, at this retreat? His voice…a memory of the past…it’s so familiar without the robotic sound to it.

I try to speak, to move, to understand. My lips part, but the only sound I can manage is a croak. “Ou-…” The effort sends a sharp jolt of pain through my body. My ears ring louder, a deafening symphony that drowns out my thoughts. My vision shifts, the blurriness replaced by a blinding white light. Panic surges as memories crash into me. The fall… I fell. He didn’t catch me.

“He… didn’t,” I rasp, my voice breaking apart like shattered glass. My lungs tighten, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. My heart slams against my ribs, a wild, erratic rhythm that drowns out everything else. “He… missed.”

The man’s voice sharpens, ice-cold rage threading through the familiar timbre. “It won’t happen again, Little Bird. I will always be here to catch you when you fall.” The growl isn’t meant for me. It’s for someone else—someone who let me slip through their fingers.

But I’m slipping now.

My chest constricts, panic squeezing like a vice. My limbs tremble, numb and weightless, as the walls press in. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. The world tilts, spiraling out of control, my pulse a frantic drum in my ears.

“He… didn’t… catch me,” I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath. My vision tunnels, shrinking, darkening. The ringing in my ears crescendos, a high-pitched wail, and then—

Nothing.

The world vanishes into black.