Chapter 14

Fourteen

The silence was unbearable.

It stretched out around me, heavy and suffocating, pressing into every corner of the basement like it was alive. Before Owen, I used to think silence was a comfort—a reprieve from the chaos outside my mind. But now… now it felt like a punishment.

A cruel, twisted kind of punishment.

I curled up tighter on the blow-up mattress, the blanket pulled so high it nearly swallowed me whole. The scent of Owen lingered in the fabric—that faint mix of cologne and warmth that had wrapped around me every night he slept beside me. My throat closed, and I fought the feeling clawing its way through my chest.

It’s just a blanket.

I repeated it like a mantra. Just a blanket. Just fabric. But I didn’t miss the blanket.

I missed him .

The realization made my stomach lurch, disgust curling up inside me like a snake. How could I miss him? After everything he’d done—everything he’d taken from me—how could I still crave his presence like this? The weight of his body beside me, the way his breathing filled the silence, the warmth he gave off even when his touch made my skin crawl.

What is wrong with you?

But even as I thought it, I knew the answer. Owen might have been a monster, but at least he filled the void. He gave the silence a shape. Without him here, the silence was just… empty. And I was so tired of feeling empty.

It was only Friday.

The first night.

My gaze flickered to the corner of the room where the bucket sat, its metal rim catching the faint light from the buzzing bulb overhead. I hadn’t moved since he left this morning, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t drunk the bottled water he’d left behind. I’d been holding on, willing myself to wait, even as the ache in my bladder sharpened, unrelenting.

The humiliation of it made me sick. He couldn’t even let me use a real bathroom. And yet, I told myself it was my own fault—like everything else. Owen left me down here because I’d made him angry, because I’d tried to leave, tried to hurt myself. He was teaching me a lesson, keeping me safe, and deep down, I… deserved it, didn’t I?

The thought made me shake, and I forced myself to sit up. My muscles screamed at the movement, stiff and sore from hours spent curled up in the same position. The blanket slipped down to my lap, and the cold hit me like a slap to the face. My gaze drifted back to the bucket, my hands trembling as I shoved the blanket off and stood.

I crossed the room slowly, my breath shallow, the sharp sting of tears already building behind my eyes. I couldn’t think about it. I wouldn’t think about it. I ignored the shaking in my limbs, the way my chest tightened with each step, until I was finally there.

My fingers fumbled with the waistband of my sweatpants, and I turned my face away, biting the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood.

When it was over, I felt stripped down to nothing—less than nothing. I stumbled back to the mattress, the humiliation sitting heavy in my gut. The smell lingered, mixing with the stale basement air, and I couldn’t stop the tears this time. They fell silently, soaking into the thin pillow beneath me as I curled into a ball and squeezed my eyes shut.

This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.

But it was.

Hours passed, or maybe it was minutes. Time didn’t mean anything anymore. The bulb overhead buzzed faintly, the sound drilling into my skull like a needle. My thoughts spiraled, tangling into a mess I couldn’t pick apart. I thought about Owen, about the look on his face when he locked the door behind him—the quiet I’ll be back he’d left me with, as if this was normal.

I hated him.

I hated him for everything he’d done to me. For locking me down here. For breaking me down into something so small, so desperate. But most of all, I hated him because I still missed him.

My gaze drifted to the pillow beside me. The iPod sat there, nestled next to the Kindle—two things that shouldn’t have held power over me but somehow did. I stared at the iPod for what felt like forever, my pulse thrumming in my ears as I remembered his words.

I made you a playlist.

I’d laughed in my head when he said it. Like it was some kind of sick joke, what are we? In a 90’s romcom? But now, the silence was eating me alive, and the thought of hearing anything other than my own broken thoughts was almost too tempting.

I reached for it slowly, the small silver device cool in my palm. It felt fragile, delicate, as if one wrong move might shatter it. I turned it over, my thumb hovering over the click wheel. I knew I shouldn’t. I knew this was just another game—another way to twist me around his little finger.

But I pressed play anyway.

The earbuds slid into my ears, and for a second, there was nothing but silence. And then Hozier’s voice filled the emptiness—low and haunting, like a prayer I didn’t deserve.

Take me to church, I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies…

The sob that tore out of me was so sudden it hurt. My chest heaved, the tears coming fast and hot as the lyrics wrapped around me, squeezing tighter and tighter until I couldn’t breathe.

I ripped the earbuds out, the iPod clattering to the floor as I curled in on myself, clutching the blanket like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.

“Stop,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “Stop, stop, stop…”

But it wasn’t the music I was begging to stop. It was the war inside my head—the part of me that still wanted to believe Owen cared. That he wasn’t a monster. That all of this… all of this was his way of saving me.

He’d found me when I was lost. He’d pulled me back from the edge, hadn’t he? He’d taken me when no one else noticed how close I was to breaking.

And what did that say about me?

You’re pathetic.

The words echoed in my head, sharp and familiar. I pressed my palms against my ears, squeezing my eyes shut as if that could block them out. I didn’t want to think about it anymore. I didn’t want to think about him .