Page 12 of Fade With Me

He stood motionless, eyes locked on the inferno as the torn remnants burned. Then, slowly, he turned andwalked back toward me, each step deliberate, until he was dangerously close.

His voice was calm.Toocalm. “Let this be a lesson, Brynlynn.” Each syllable landed like a blow. “Disobey me again, and I’ll make sure your whole world burns. Everything you know—gone. What’s left will be darkness and misery. AndI’llbe the one to watch it happen.”

Terror twisted in my chest, seizing every inch of me from the inside out.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came. Just a nod. A quiet surrender.

He loomed, nose nearly brushing mine, rage rolling off him in waves.

My fingers curled into fists, my whole body bracing for impact, heart pounding like a drumbeat I couldn’t silence. I feared—no, knew—he might strike.

Please. Please don’t hit me.

But instead, without another word, he stormed toward the door. It crashed shut so hard the walls rattled. The shock of it made me flinch.

Silence fell like ash. Heavy. Final.

And in its place, only emptiness, hollow and aching in the wake of his fury.

I ran upstairs, burst into my bedroom—then stopped cold.

Drawers had been yanked open, their contents flung everywhere, strewn across the floor like the wreckageof my life. My belongings lay discarded, meaningless. Trashed.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I took in the destruction. The room was a battlefield, ravaged by Reggie’s wrath. And I knew—I was to blame. I’d set this in motion. I should’ve destroyed that book long ago, before it ever had the chance to unleash this kind of havoc.

The weight of it all cracked open inside me.

I grabbed my hair, dropped to my knees, and screamed. A raw, guttural sound that tore from somewhere deep and broken.

Then, a sharp, deafening pop.

The room plunged into darkness.

I froze, the echo of my scream swallowed by the sudden silence.

My legs wobbled as I stood, unsteady, and reached for the lamp. My hand hovered over the switch, but something caught my eye.

Glass. Shattered. Glinting on the nightstand like scattered teeth.

I moved closer. The bulb was blown to pieces, its fragments catching the faintest light, sharp and cold. It looked like it had burst apart from the inside, like something had snapped and couldn’t be held anymore.

I stared at it for a long moment, pulse still racing.

Then I whispered, “Great.” The word felt useless in the dark.

I swept the glass into my palm, too tired to care about the sting. Tiny slivers pressed into my skin, but I barely flinched. I just wanted it gone. Next time, I’d buy a safer brand. Something reliable. Something that didn’t explode the moment life got hard.

I couldn’t sit in that wreckage another second. I needed to feel different. To be different.

The next few hours dissolved in a blur of movement and noise. I scrubbed every surface, shoved furniture into new places, rearranged drawers and shelves like I could somehow shift the energy inside the walls. Like I could shake him out of the corners.

Eventually, I dragged my bed to the window, where the shape of the mountains cut through the distant haze. A small act of rebellion. Of reclamation.

I sat down hard, breathing heavy, surrounded by the quiet hum of the room. The ache in my chest was sharp and sudden. My book—my escape, my sanctuary—was gone. Burned.

All I had now were the words it left behind. Branded into me. Echoing like scars. I could only hope they’d be enough to get me through the empty days ahead.

five

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