The silence after the storm is deafening.

I sit down on the floor, more relaxed than I haven't felt before. The weight of what just happened pressing down on me like a physical force. The air is still, but it feels different—lighter, clearer. The suffocating presence that had been lurking in every shadow, clinging to every breath, is gone. But so is something else. The hollow space inside me, where Tyler's memory has been living, feels vast and echoing. I've let him go. I had to. But now, all I'm left with is that emptiness.

Max nuzzles my leg, his body finally relaxed, no longer bristling with tension. Chloe is beside me, her hand still resting on my shoulder, though I can feel her eyes on me, watching, waiting. She knows how much this has cost me. And so does Natalie.

Natalie stands a few feet away, her face calm, though I can see the weariness in her eyes. Her chanting has stopped, and the small candles she placed around the room flicker softly, casting gentle shadows on the walls. The darkness that once seemed alive with menace is just darkness now. Ordinary. Like the apartment has become a normal place again.

"It's done," Natalie says softly, breaking the silence. "You did what you needed to do, Ettie."

I nod, even though the words don't feel entirely real yet. It's over. The entity, the thing that's been feeding on my grief, using Tyler's memory to manipulate me—it's gone. But the finality of that statement is harder to accept than I thought it would be. It's not just the entity that's gone. It's Tyler. For real this time.

Chloe shifts beside me, her voice gentle but firm. "How are you feeling?"

The question hangs in the air for a moment, and I don't know how to answer. I don't know how I feel. I'm exhausted, drained emotionally and physically, but there's also a strange lightness inside me. A release. The crushing weight of grief that had been suffocating me for so long is still there, but it's different now. It's no longer something that's pulling me under. It's just... there. Like a scar I'll carry forever, but one that won't consume me.

"I...I don't know," I admit, my voice crackles slightly. "I think I'm okay. Or I will be."

Chloe's hand tightens on my shoulder, her silent support grounding me. I lean into it, letting myself take comfort in the fact that I'm not alone. I don't have to face this emptiness by myself.

Natalie begins to gather her things, her movements slow and deliberate. She glances at me, her expression kind yet serious. "You've done something incredibly difficult, Ettie. Letting go of someone you love. It's never easy. But you've taken the first step toward healing."

I want to believe her. I want to believe that this is the beginning of something new, something better. Nevertheless, all I can think about right now is how much it still hurts. How much I miss Tyler. Even now, after everything, a part of me still aches for him, still longs for the way things were before.

"I'll leave you to rest." Natalie says, her voice gentle. "But remember, this isn't the end. It's just the beginning. You've taken back control, but healing takes time. Be kind to yourself."

I nod, not trusting my voice to say anything more. Natalie gives me a soft smile, then turns to Chloe. "I'll be in touch if you need anything."

"Thank you!" Chloe says, her voice thick with emotion. "For everything!"

Natalie gives us both a final nod before quietly leaving the apartment. The door clicks shut behind her, and for a moment, the silence in the apartment feels too loud. Too empty.

Chloe turns to me, her eyes soft with concern. "Do you want me to stay?"

I hesitate, torn between wanting her comfort and knowing I need to face this emptiness on my own. I appreciate her more than I can say—her support, her presence—but I also know that this next part of the journey is something I have to go through alone.

"I'll be okay." I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "I think I just need some time to process."

Chloe looks at me for a long moment, and I can see the reluctance in her eyes. She wants to stay, wants to help me through this, but she also knows that sometimes, healing requires space.

"If you need anything," she says softly, "I'm just a phone call away. I mean it, Ettie. Anytime."

I nod, offering her a weak smile. "I know. Thank you, Chloe."

She pulls me into a tight hug, and for a moment, I let myself lean into it, feeling the warmth of her friendship, the strength of her support. When she finally pulls away, there's a sadness in her eyes, but also relief. Relief that I've made it through this, that I'm still here.

"I'll check in with you tomorrow, okay?" she says, her hand lingering on my arm. "Get some rest."

I nod again, watching as she gathers her things and heads for the door. When it closes behind her, the apartment feels quieter than ever. Just me and Max now.

I sit back on the couch, my legs pulled up to my chest, and Max curls up beside me, resting his head on my knee. I stroke his fur obliviously, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

The apartment feels different now. The darkness that once suffocated me feels ordinary again. The walls, the furniture, everything that was once tinged with Tyler's presence, now feels still. And yet, the weight of what happened lingers in the air, a reminder of everything I've been through.

I look around the room—at the guitar in the corner, the photos on the wall, the little remnants of Tyler that still remain. For so long, I've clung to these things, afraid to let go, afraid that if I did, I'd lose him completely. But I understand now that holding onto him in this way wasn't keeping him alive. It was keeping me trapped. It was feeding something dark, something that didn't care about my love or my grief. It only cared about its own survival.

Now, I have to figure out how to find that resolve to live without him.

I take a deep breath, the weight in my chest still heavy but manageable. I've spent so long consumed by the past, by the memory of Tyler, that I've forgotten how to be in the present. Maybe now, with the entity gone, with the apartment cleared of its dark energy, I can start to move forward.

I don't know what that looks like yet. I don't know how to heal from something like this. But I know that I need to try. For me. And for Tyler.

Standing up slowly, I move closer toward the window. The first light of dawn is just beginning to creep over the horizon, casting a soft glow across the city. It feels like the first real light I've seen in days, maybe weeks. And with it comes a strange sense of hope.

I open the window, letting the cool morning air wash over me, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe. Really breathe.

Max sits beside me, his ears perked up, watching the world outside with curiosity. I run my fingers through his fur, the reticence between us comfortable, peaceful.

"I think we're going to be okay," I say gently to him, my voice soft but sure.

Max looks up at me, his tail wagging slightly, as if he understands. As if he knows that we've made it through the worst of it.

I close my eyes, feeling the cool breeze against my skin, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I let go of the weight in my chest. I let go of the darkness that's been haunting me, the pain that's been consuming me.

I let go of Tyler.

And as I do, I feel something inside me shift. Something that feels like hope. Like freedom.

The echoes of the past will always be there, lingering in the corners of my mind. But now, I know that they don't have to control me. They don't have to define me.

I am more than my grief. More than the love I lost.

I am Ettie Ross.

And I'm ready to move forward.