Night always came the same way.
Slow. Silent. Uninvited.
Y/N lay awake, staring at the ceiling as darkness pressed in from every corner.
Rowan slept beside her, his breathing steady, calm—too calm.
She focused on the sound, used it like an anchor.
You're safe, she told herself.
Her eyes closed anyway.
And the past found her.
—
She was small again.
Too small.
The world smelled like rain and metal.
Lights blurred into long white streaks, stretching and breaking like her thoughts.
Her feet didn't touch the ground.
Someone was carrying her.
"Papa?" she whispered.
No answer.
Only the sound.
Glass shattering.
A scream—hers or someone else's, she couldn't tell.
"Y/N."
Her father's voice.
Close. Far. Everywhere.
"Papa, where are you?" she cried, trying to turn her head.
But her body wouldn't listen.
She could hear him breathing—ragged, pained.
"I'm here," his voice said softly. Too softly. "Don't look back."
"I can't see you," she sobbed. "Papa, I can't see your face."
Silence.
Then footsteps. Heavy. Rushing.
Sirens cut through the air, sharp and merciless.
"No—no, please," she begged.
"Don't take me away. Papa!"
His voice came again, breaking.
"Be brave," he said. "Close your eyes."
"Papa, I'm scared."
"I know," he whispered. "I know."
She tried to reach for him.
Her hand met nothing.
—
Y/N woke up screaming.
Her body jolted upright, breath coming in sharp gasps.
Her hands shook violently as tears spilled down her cheeks, hot and uncontrollable.
"Papa—!"
Rowan was awake instantly.
He grabbed her shoulders, firm but gentle. "Y/N. Hey. Look at me."
She couldn't.
Her eyes darted around the room like the walls were closing in.
"I couldn't see him," she cried.
"He was there—I heard him—but I couldn't see his face."
Rowan pulled her into his chest, stroking her hair slowly, rhythmically.
"It's okay," he murmured.
"You're here. You're safe."
"No," she whispered, clutching his shirt.
"I'm not.
It keeps happening.
Every night. The same voice. The same fear."
Rowan's jaw tightened for a moment.
Then he softened.
"You don't have to remember," he said quietly.
"Some memories only exist to hurt you."
"But it's my father," she said, voice cracking.
"Why can't I see him?"
Rowan tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Because your mind is protecting you," he said. "And I'll protect you too."
She searched his face, desperate for comfort.
"Promise?"
He smiled.
A gentle smile.
"I promise," Rowan said. "I won't let the past touch you again."
She rested her head against his chest, exhausted.
Rowan's hand continued to stroke her hair.
Slow.
Careful.
Possessive.
As her breathing evened out, his gaze drifted to the dark window.
His voice dropped to a whisper she couldn't hear.
"The past already did its job," he murmured.
"It broke you."
His fingers tightened slightly in her hair.
"And broken things," he added calmly,
"are easy to control."
Y/N slept again.
But the dream lingered.
A man without a face.
A voice trapped in the dark.
And a truth waiting to be remembered.
The prison door inside her mind creaked open—
just a little more.....