Cheryl POV

He held me firmly in his arms as we passed through the towering men who worked for him. Finn ascended the first flight of stairs to the second floor, and I immediately knew where we were headed.

He was taking me to the third floor, the room I feared most, but at that moment, I didn't care. As long as I felt safe in his arms, I couldn't bring myself to worry about where he was leading me.

I could see he was struggling to mask his pain, though a soft wince escaped with each step. His expression grew more strained with every movement. I had hurt him, yet he was protecting me?

Why?

When we arrived at his studio, it was brightly lit, just like the rest of the house. The light was almost too sharp for my eyes after the darkness Finn had rescued me from.

He took me straight to the bathroom. I'd never understood the allure of luxurious bathrooms, and it wasn't something I could process now, my mind was too muddled, a blend of confusion, shock, and fear. What was Finn planning?

Even though his injury was clearly troubling him, he carefully placed me in the bathtub. His face betrayed the discomfort he tried to hide.

"Can you—can you manage on your own?" he asked, his voice edged with concern, motioning to the bathtub with his uninjured hand.

I gave a small nod.

"Alright. Call me when you're finished. I'll check your wounds," he added softly, before cautiously leaving the room.

I knew I had wounds, but I wasn't even sure where. All I knew was that my entire body ached, every inch hurt.

My arms wouldn't move. They felt unresponsive. I couldn't even muster the strength to turn on the faucet.

So I sat still, unmoving, staring at the pristine white surface in front of me. But soon, my vision began to blur, playing cruel tricks on me. Their faces appeared, the two men lying in their own blood. I knew I should be desensitized to death by now, living under the same roof as a notorious murderer.

But it's not something you just get over. They were human, men I'd known for days, men who had once been filled with life and power, but now, they were nothing.

I think I was in shock. If I'd been myself, I'd be hiding from Finn. But I was too broken.

By the time Finn knocked on the doorframe and peeked inside, I hadn't moved. I was still in the same place, still dirty, still shattered.

People believe death happens when you stop breathing when your eyes close for good. But the truth is, not everyone who dies lies in a grave. Even an eighteen-year-old girl in the bathroom of a ruthless murderer who kidnapped her and swore to keep her alive can be dying inside, every second of her life slipping away, and no one knows.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, a furrow forming on his brow. He quickly corrected himself, as if realizing how absurd the question was. "Can I help you?" he offered gently.

Weakly, I nodded. I didn't care about my body anymore. The idea of being exposed to my captor didn't stir any protest within me.

Finn carefully began to undress me while I remained still. I flinched each time he slid my arms out of the dirty, damp dress.

I was bare before him, and when the warm water touched my skin, I felt... nothing. Finn began lathering the loofah, his eyes deliberately avoiding mine.

"Does it hurt?" he asked softly as he began to wash me.

"No," I muttered, my voice barely audible.

Once I was clean, and smelling like fresh soap, Finn helped me out of the tub, wrapping me in a thick, soft towel. He guided me to a cushioned dressing chair, his palms rubbing against his black sweatpants as he scanned the bathroom.

I watched him rummage through the cabinets, searching for something with an almost frantic energy. He muttered curses under his breath, casting glances back at me.

"There should be a bandage," he murmured to himself, crouching down to search more thoroughly.

He finally returned with some ointment and a bandage. Pulling up a chair, he sat across from me, our reflections visible in the mirror.

He began applying the ointment to my temple, and the sharp sting made me wince, tears threatening to fall.

~

Finn POV

"Sorry." I quickly pulled back, fear clawing at me that I might be hurting her.

She was still trembling, fear evident in her glistening green eyes. She should know I would never harm her.

After bandaging the spots on her skin that needed treatment, I sighed. Teddy and Reddy had done this to her. They hurt her and assured me she was safe. Why would they lie?

I didn't know how to process it yet. I had killed the two men I trusted the most. My body might not have been shuddering, but I felt frozen inside.

I knew I could be merciless, but I wished they hadn't betrayed me. I wished they hadn't hurt Cheryl for my sake. I wished I didn't have to lose them. I wished everything had been different.

But it wasn't. I wasn't just parentless; I was gradually losing the people who cared for me.

As I tended to Cheryl's injuries, which felt like knives piercing my heart, it confirmed how I never wanted to see her hurt, but she was suffering, and  I had to treat it. Gritting my teeth against the sting in my chest, I lifted her into my arms, bridal style, and carried her, even though it aggravated my wound. I had redress it just while I gave her time to bathe.

I set her down on my bed this time. Sifting through my walk-in closet, I found a plain shirt and some shorts for her.

She was still silent. The fact that she'd been hurt because of me tortured my sanity. I couldn't forgive myself for pushing her into this.

Bitterness rose in my throat as I helped her slip the shirt over her head. I had to shut my eyes, reassuring her I wasn't going to hurt her as I gently pulled my black shorts onto her.

Her gaze was fixed on the TV screen playing a soccer match. She was breathing more evenly now, and I felt a measure of relief knowing she wasn't trying to escape from me. She wasn't attempting to shoot or hit me. She was simply weak, and that reminded me she needed to eat.

"I'll make you some tea," I said softly to the girl on my bed, but she didn't respond. Her eyes stayed locked on the twenty-two men chasing the ball across the screen.

After making her a quick cup of warm tea with extra cream, I also brought water, since she seemed to prefer it over anything else, aside from the takeout I paid Steph to deliver every day, as she appeared to rely solely on food from her.

"Cheryl, tea?" I held it out when she didn't seem to notice my presence.

She slowly shook her head without blinking.

"Water then?" I suggested, careful to keep my voice gentle so I wouldn't startle her. I knew she must hate me more now than she did days ago, for I had once again done what I was known for in her presence. But she had no idea what those two men had meant to me. Killing them had been the hardest thing I'd ever done.

She was going to leave me. She'd never accept me for who I was, but Teddy and Reddy had. They had been with me through every step of my revenge over the past five years. They stayed when I was sick and when I needed someone to talk to. They understood me better than I understood myself. They were the only connection I had to my childhood, memories I didn't even know about until they shared them. And yet, I killed them because they crossed the line by touching her.

I didn't know how I'd live with myself now. They had done everything for me. Cheryl, I'm the one who's lost, not you.

"Do you want to lie down?" I asked, trying to make her comfortable, but nothing seemed to help. She was still shaking.

She shook her head again and asked, "Can I go back to my room?" Her voice was hoarse, she was getting sick. If Teddy or Reddy were here, I'd tell them to call Peter. But I had killed them, so now it was up to me to either call Peter myself or promote someone else.

I wanted her to stay here, I hoped to look after her, but I nodded and gave her a small smile. I didn't want to scare her more, so I helped her to her room.

***

"Hey?" A loud female voice pierced through the fog in my head, but I couldn't lift myself, couldn't even move.

"Finn?"

I knew it was Steph, but I didn't respond. My body felt heavy, my head was pounding, and the world was spinning.

She patted my shoulder for a while, but my wrecked soul couldn't command my wasted body.

I heard her curse several times before the door slammed shut.

I had consumed too much. It would take days to sober up, days to feel free again. Days without grief.

~

Cheryl POV

I huddled against the cold wall, trembling, clutching myself tightly as if that could hold me together. My eyes were closed, but I could feel my sanity slowly slipping through my fingers.

My world had shattered, leaving me hollow.

I looked like death itself. I was dead.

I'd seen things, things that twisted me inside out. Horrors that taunted my mind, playing with my vision until all I saw were lifeless, blood-streaked bodies. Pallid corpses. Twitching fingers. Eyes that should've been dead, darting toward me. I couldn't sleep. Not after what I'd seen. They haunted me all night, coming closer, suffocating me in the dark. They wanted revenge. I was already on the edge of death.

I was surprised to find tears in my eyes, I should've run dry by now.

Finn shot two men in front of me, without even flinching. He killed them like they didn't matter, like they weren't people like they didn't have souls.

"Why, Cheryl?" Steph's voice was gentle, yet it shook me because I was guilty and she was disappointed.

"I don't know," I whispered.

"You could've stopped him." Steph's eyes lingered on me, studying me like I was the villain.

I thought I was defending myself, wasn't I? But the guilt was eating me alive. I must've looked as haunted as I felt because I hated myself for what I'd become.

"I don't know," I muttered again, the words hollow.

Steph let out a long sigh and folded her legs beneath her, sitting opposite me. "When I was fifteen, our landlord wasn't kind. She had her men throw our belongings out on the street, and my mom had nothing. We spent days without shelter, nowhere to go."

I watched her silently, listening as the painful memories darkened her face. "I had to get to school early just to shower before anyone saw me. Tenth grade, and I had already lost hope of college."

It never occurred to me that Steph had endured so much. Beneath her bright exterior, she carried her own scars.

"One stormy day," she continued, "I'll never forget how hard it rained. I was starving. There was a restaurant, and I stood by the kitchen window, watching. They were cooking all kinds of dishes, and the smell hit me so hard it made my two-day hunger unbearable. I was just a kid, a starving kid. I slipped into the window and no one caught me. I noticed a basket of fresh fries. They were scalding hot, but I had to take some for my mom. So I used my wet shirt to grab a handful. I guess you could call it stealing," she said with a small laugh, glancing at me.

"The cook spotted me in the act. He screamed 'thief' so loud, it was like I'd committed the biggest crime in history. Next thing I knew, six guys were chasing after me." she smiled painfully.

"Like a money heist?" I smiled back, tears fresh on my cheeks.

"Yeah, but it was more of a fries heist," she added, and we both giggled, the sound tinged with sadness, as the pain was evident in her eyes.

"I was terrified, but I wanted those fries for my mom. She was out there in the rain, guarding what little we had left. But everything was soaked. Nothing worked anymore, our electronics were destroyed."

Steph's voice softened. "They chased me into this fancy restaurant, someplace I'd only ever seen on TV. I was standing there, in just my pink bra, while everyone stared at me. It was humiliating. Security was closing in on me. I panicked. Do you know where I ended up hiding?" she chuckled through her tears, and I shook my head.

"Under Finn's table," she wiped her tears, a somber smile on her face. "And when the guards approached, Finn slammed his fist on the table and warned them not to come closer. 'The customer is always right,' right? They backed off, and after a while, Finn looked under the table and smiled at me, the kindest smile."

By now, tears were running down my cheeks. I couldn't help it.

"That day, Finn didn't just save me from those men. I got more takeout than I could carry. He drove me back to my mom, and from that day on, we never slept outside again, starved, or showered at school. He bought us a house, and a car, funded my college tuition, and even helped my mom start a business. He was only sixteen, and to me, he was an angel. He is my angel." she sniffled.

Tears shimmered in Steph's eyes. I was struck speechless by everything she said.

It was around five years ago when the murders began happening in my town. How could this be the same person? I couldn't wrap my head around it. How could someone so young kill so carefully, so methodically?

"I know he's made a lot of mistakes, we all do," Steph said, "but Finn has the kindest heart I've ever known."

I was stunned by her story. If Finn had that kind of heart, what happened to him? A part of me believed that goodness was still in him. I saw it in his eyes last night. But I don't know what to do.

"I owe him everything," she said softly, her voice breaking. "And I'll protect him with my life. Always."

I swallowed hard, overwhelmed by it all.

"He's not what you think, Cheryl. He won't hurt you. Stop trying to kill him. Listen to him," she wiped her tears again.

"I don't understand." I slowly shake my head, biting the inside of my cheek. "I was supposed to be part of his revenge, I don't even know what caused it, but then he wanted to kill me, and now he doesn't. Now he wants me, and I'm terrified I won't be able to give him what he wants. I'm more afraid of him than anything else. How am I supposed to live with that? Steph, I have no idea what to do. I'm so confused. Everything is happening so fast, and it's so overwhelming. I was just a simple small-town girl, and now I don't even recognize myself." I sniff, trying to swallow the tears burning in my throat.

"I wish I understood something, anything, but I don't. I don't even know why I'm here. I can't wrap my head around how he can be both cruel and gentle. Why does he kill people? And now... he's killing everyone who hurts me." My voice broke as the tears finally spilled, and a single sob escaped my lips.

"Why don't you listen to him, give him a chance?" she said softly.

"We both know Finn's not one for talking. All I know is that he loves me, I felt it. I saw what he was willing to do for me, and how he handled me, and that scares me more than anything. So what's next? Getting married to my kidnapper? Someone who kills people? Someone my dad's hunting down. Honestly! What am I supposed to listen to? Finn never breaks his promises. He won't let me go, and he won't listen to reason. It feels like I'm drifting in the middle of the ocean without a map or radio, completely lost." My voice cracked.

"There's always a lifeboat. Why won't you reach for it?" she asked, her voice steady as if she were sure of it.

***

The rest of the day, I was left alone, trapped within these cold walls, my own personal hell.

To be honest, I've reached the point where I'd rather die than endure the constant dread hanging over me.

Every little noise, every shadow, sent me into a panic until I found myself screaming from the overwhelming fear of it all.

I screamed when I saw Amelia approaching. I begged her to leave and pleaded for her forgiveness. I kept apologizing for dragging her into this nightmare, for being the reason for her death.

But she didn't disappear. She kept moving closer. Behind her, Brad came running toward me. His lips were parted as if he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent. Amelia, though, was softly murmuring, "It's okay, Cheryl."

I wanted them to go. I wanted the walls to close in on me, to swallow me whole. I scratched at the concrete with my nails, not even feeling the pain.

"Please go. I'm sorry," I begged.

I felt her hands on me, and I trembled. My skin turned pale, I could feel it.

Her hands gently stroked my hair, soothing my arms until my shaking fingers were still in her warm palms.

"It's okay. Cheryl, it's okay."

That's when I heard Liam's voice, and my eyes shot open. He was crouched next to me, a concerned frown etched on his face, with Peter standing behind him.

That's when I realized, it wasn't Amelia. And it wasn't Brad.

No. I was truly losing my mind. Their blood was on me. All their blood was on me. And I was damned to suffer for it.