Chapter 95: Madeline
The waves crash harder below. A seagull shrieks somewhere down the shore.
“He was speeding down the highway, talking nonstop. I just remember his voice, angry but calm, like he thought he was right. He said I owed him another chance.” My chest tightens, air thinning. “When he slowed at a red light, I opened the door and jumped.”
Charlie gasps.
I roll my sleeve up and show her the scar running along my bicep. Pale now, but still ugly. “I landed hard. Opened my arm on the pavement. I don’t remember much after that. Just the hospital lights and the police asking questions.”
Charlie presses a hand to her mouth, eyes glossy.
“They said without proof, without a threat in writing, there wasn’t much they could do. My friends tried to help at first, but they got scared of him. They told me to stay away and stopped answering my calls.”
I shiver, and it has nothing to do with the cold.
“Then spring break came,” I whisper. “I was alone in my dorm. Everyone had gone home. The halls were empty—too quiet. I remember thinking I could finally sleep without checking the locks every hour.”
Charlie says nothing, just waits.
“The power went out around midnight. Everything—my lamp, my heater—just died. The whole building went black. It was so quiet I could hear the wind scraping against the windows.”
I swallow, my voice trembling. “Then my phone started ringing. Unknown number. Over and over. Every time I let it stop, it rang again. The vibration against the desk was so loud in the silence, it felt like it was shaking the whole room.”
Charlie’s hand finds mine, her grip firm, but it doesn’t stop the trembling.
“And then,” I say, breath catching, “came the banging.”
It echoes in my head—the sound that woke something primal in me.
“Hard, violent hits. Not knocks. Like he was trying to break it down. He was screaming my name. Saying I’d ruined everything, that if I didn’t open the door, he’d make me regret it. He said he just wanted to see me, just wanted to talk, and then he started laughing—this awful, broken laugh—like he was enjoying it.”
The words scrape my throat on the way out.
“I couldn’t move. I just sat in the corner, knees to my chest, watching the doorknob shake. It rattled like it was about to come off. I remember counting the seconds between each hit. I thought if I made it to ten, he’d stop. But he didn’t.”
The tears start again, spilling hot against my cold skin. “I don’t know how long it went on. Minutes. Hours. The silence after was worse. I thought he was still there, waiting.”
Charlie squeezes my hand tighter.
“I ran,” I whisper. “Through the side door by the laundry room—the one with the broken alarm. The night air was freezing, but I didn’t feel it. I just ran. No shoes, no jacket. My feet were bleeding by the time I saw the lights from the police station. I didn’t stop until I got there. I didn’t even look behind me.”
The sea crashes below, but all I can hear is that door, still shaking in my memory—like it’s waiting to break again.
“When they went to the dorm, he was gone,” I finish. “They wrote a report. Said to keep records, call if it happened again.” I exhale, shaky. “One woman officer brought me to a motel, said I could stay a few days until I figured out a safe place. I’d applied to SWMRI months before. While I was there—at the motel—Samantha emailed. I got the job. So… I packed and came straight here.”
The waves beat the shore, relentless. Charlie pulls me into a full-body hug and doesn’t let go.
I don’t know how long I cry for.
It feels endless—like everything I’ve been holding in for months is clawing its way out all at once. Every breath comes out broken. Every sound that leaves me is small and ugly and desperate.
Charlie doesn’t say anything. She just holds me, tight and unmoving, one arm around my shoulders, the other hand cupped at the back of my head. I can feel her heartbeat through her sweater, steady and real, and it makes me cry harder.
When the sobs finally start to fade, it’s quiet again except for the sea. The waves hit the shore below us, the rhythm low and slow, the kind that makes you feel small.
Charlie keeps her voice soft. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise. But… why don’t you want people to know?”
I wipe at my eyes, even though the tears won’t stop. “Because I don’t want to be that girl.”
She pulls back a little, looking at me.
“The girl who’s always scared,” I whisper. “In the city, I couldn’t even go to the grocery store without panicking. I’d see someone with his build, or a car that looked like his, and I’d just—” My voice cracks. “Freeze.”
Charlie’s face is wet now too.
“I came here because I wanted to be myself again. I didn’t want his shadow following me everywhere. I wanted to stop being the girl who jumped at every sound, the one everyone pitied. And I don’t want Reid or Jake—or anyone—to have another reason to think I don’t fit with the team.”
The words twist in my throat, my chest tightening until I can’t finish.
Charlie watches me for a moment, then quietly says what I can’t.
“You didn’t want us to give up on you. Like your friends did.”
The truth of it hits like a wave. I can’t even nod at first. When I finally do, it’s small and broken.
Charlie pulls me in again, her chin resting on top of my head.
“No one here’s giving up on you, okay? Not me. Not ever.”
The fog drifts closer around us, blurring everything but the sound of the sea and the warmth of her arms.