Jade woke with a sharp gasp.
Dark room. Clock reading 2:37 AM. Heart pounding so hard it hurt. For a second, she couldn't move.
The dream clung like fog: the park, the oak tree, black empty sky, something waiting in shadows. Then Blake's voice. Not angry. Not cold. Desperate.
"Jade… help me."
She sat up too quickly, dragging shaky breath. The room felt wrong. Too quiet. Too heavy. Chill down her spine, growing stronger despite reason.
Something was wrong. With Blake.
She pushed blankets off, reached for her jacket. "I'm being ridiculous," she whispered. But she was already heading for the door.
The streets were empty. Night air colder, clouds pressing heavily across sky. She stopped at the edge of his driveway, stared at the dark house surrounded by woods.
No lights. No movement. Stomach twisting, she walked up front steps. Knocked. Nothing. Waited. Knocked again. "Blake?" Softly.
Silence. She stepped back, unease sharpening. Maybe not home. But the feeling in her chest said otherwise.
She turned toward the side—Behind her, the front door creaked open. She froze. Slowly turned. Door half open. No one there. "Blake?"
No answer. Instinct said don't go inside. Something stronger pulled her forward. She crossed the threshold.
Dark. Unnaturally still. Moonlight spilled through windows, stretching long shadows. Everything looked normal. Nothing felt normal. Air heavy. Suffocating. Like the house held its breath. "Blake?" Louder.
Then—the sound. From deeper inside. Not whispering. Not exactly. Someone breathing unevenly. Someone trying not to break.
Pulse jumping, she moved toward the hallway. Footsteps careful against floorboards. "Blake?"
This time—weak. Distant. Strained.
"Jade…"
Chest tightening instantly. "Blake!"
She hurried forward, following sound into the living room—Stopped.
He was there. Collapsed near the couch, one hand braced against the edge like he'd tried to pull himself up and failed. Breathing ragged. Hair damp with sweat. Cushion knocked to ground. Lamp tilted sideways, hit on the way down. For one awful second, she couldn't move.
He looked wrecked. More than angry. More than upset. Broken. "Don't come closer," he said hoarsely.
Throat tightening. "Blake, what happened?"
Laugh under his breath—wrong. Frayed. Exhausted. "I told you to stay away."
Outside, thunder rolled. She took another step anyway. His whole body tensed.
"Jade."
Heart pounding harder. He looked up, and what scared her wasn't supernatural. It was how terrified he looked. Not of her. Of himself.
Hands shaking violently now, pressed hard against his head like holding something inside. "I can't shut it off," he said.
Swallowing. "What?"
"The thoughts." Breathing breaking on the word. "They won't stop."
Lightning flashed. Room white, then plunged back to darkness.
She saw damage clearer: broken glass near kitchen doorway, deep marks in sofa arm where fingers had dug, room thrown out of place by someone losing control.
By him.
She moved closer. "Blake—"
"Don't." Voice rising sharply, then cracking. "Please."
She stopped. Rain began hitting windows. He squeezed eyes shut. "It keeps telling me the same thing." Barely above whisper. "That everyone leaves. That everyone lies. That if I let you stay close—" He cut himself off.
Fear climbing through her chest, cold and real. But she stayed. "If you let me stay close, what?" she asked softly.
He opened his eyes. Stared at her.
Then: "I'm scared I'll become exactly what it wants me to be."
The words hung. Raw. Ugly. Honest.
She stepped closer again, more slowly. Close enough to mean it. Far enough he wouldn't feel trapped.
His breathing hitched. "You should go. Before I say something I can't take back. Before I do something—"
"No. " The word left before she could second-guess.
He stared at her. Her own heart racing now. She was scared. Knew it. But more scared of leaving him here alone.
"You came back for me," she said quietly. "You defended me. You fought for me even when you were angry." Voice shaking, but continuing. "So I'm not leaving you here by yourself."
Something in his expression cracked. Not all at once. Just enough. Shoulders sagging slightly, like the fight inside had exhausted whatever strength remained. Then, quieter than before: "Jade…"
The way he said it hurt. She knelt carefully a few feet away. Storm outside rumbled again, softer. Long moment of silence.
Then he looked down at the floor and said, like it cost him something: "I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this."
Chest tightening. And in that moment, she understood something terrifying.
It wasn't that Blake was haunted by something outside him. It was worse. He was losing a war with himself.
The storm didn't stop. If anything, it grew louder. Rain hammering windows. Thunder rolling in deep, shaking waves vibrating through walls. She didn't move.
Stayed exactly where she was, kneeling, watching him. Breathing carefully. Like one wrong move might break something fragile between them. His head lowered, hands still braced against floor. Breathing slowed slightly—but not enough. Not steady. Not safe.
"You don't have to do it alone," she said softly.
Sharp breath. "You don't get it."
Another crack of thunder. Louder. Closer. She flinched slightly—but eyes never left him.
"Then help me understand."
Laugh. Not real. The kind from someone already at their limit. "You being here…" Dragging hand through hair. "It makes everything worse."
Stomach dropping. "Why?"
His head lifted slowly. The second their eyes met—something shifted. Not suddenly. Not violently. But enough. Enough for her to feel it.
Breathing changed. Sharpened. Shoulders tensing. Jaw tightening. Then—he stood. Too fast.
Heart jumping. "Blake—"
He didn't answer. Just stared at her. Not like before. Not confused. Not broken.
Something else. Something dangerous.
Hands flexing at his sides. Like trying to control them. Trying not to do something.
She felt it then. That flicker of fear.
Real. Cold. But she didn't move.
"Blake," she said again, quieter. "Look at me."
For a second—it worked. Expression wavering. Slightly.
But then gaze darkened again.
"You shouldn't have come." Low. Strained. Like words forced past something inside him.
Throat tightening. "I'm not leaving you."
Something in him snapped. Not loudly. Not visibly. But she saw it.
The exact moment control slipped.
He stepped toward her. Fast. Too fast.
Breath catching. "Blake—wait—"
He didn't stop. Another step. Closer. Hand lifting—not fully—but enough.
Enough to make her heart slam violently against ribs.
She froze. Every instinct screaming: move, run, get away.
But she didn't.
Because she saw it. Even now—even like this —hesitation in his eyes. A fight. Still happening. Still there.
"Blake…" she whispered.
Hand tightening. And for one terrifying second—it looked like he would strike.
Eyes squeezing shut. Whole body tensed—waiting—for impact. For pain. For him to lose control.
CRACK.
Lightning split the sky. Blinding. Violent. Instant. House lit white for fraction of second—followed immediately by deafening thunder crash. Ground shaking. Windows rattling.
Lights flickered—
once—
twice—
then—darkness.
Silence.
She stood frozen. Still braced. Still waiting. But nothing came. No impact. No movement. No sound. Slowly—hesitantly—she opened her eyes. Breath catching. Blake wasn't there.
The space in front of her: empty. Completely. Room looked exactly same—but he was gone. Like he'd never been standing there at all.
Jade's heart pounding harder. "Blake…?" Voice shaking. No answer. Only rain hitting windows.
She stood quickly, turning in place.
"Blake?! "
Nothing. No footsteps. No door. No sign of him. House felt different now. Colder. Quieter. Like something had been there—then wasn't anymore.
Chest tightening painfully. Because she knew—this wasn't him walking away.
This was something else.
Something wrong.
Voice dropping to whisper. "…Blake?"
Silence answered.
And for the first time—real fear settled deep in her chest. Because wherever he had gone—he hadn't gone by choice.