Chapter 24

Twenty-Four

The walk back to my dorm felt like a trudge through quicksand. Every step was heavy, dragging me closer to a place I wasn’t ready to face. Liam had insisted I take as much time as I needed, but there was no escaping the fact that I still had things here—pieces of me I’d left behind in the chaos.

It had been weeks since I last stood in front of this door, and now, as I stared at it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. My hand hesitated on the handle, the quiet hallway amplifying the hammering of my heart.

I pushed the door open, and immediately, unease coiled around me like a noose.

The air felt sterile, devoid of the life I’d left behind. My bed was perfectly made, the faint scent of cleaning supplies hanging in the air. My desk, once cluttered with notebooks and pens, now looked pristine, unnaturally neat.

This wasn’t how I left it.

My pulse quickened as I stepped inside, my gaze darting to every corner, searching for what didn’t belong. That’s when I saw it—the iPod and Kindle, sitting side by side on the desk. Their presence was a punch to the gut, a cruel reminder of a life I was trying to escape.

A small folded note rested beside them, the sight of it making my breath hitch. My hands trembled as I picked it up, the handwriting instantly recognizable.

“For when you’re ready.”

My knees buckled, and I sank onto the edge of my bed, clutching the note in one hand while my other hovered over the iPod. Memories of Owen’s voice filled my mind, soft and earnest, from that weekend before everything shattered.

My fingers brushed against its smooth surface, a thousand emotions clawing at me as I picked it up and scrolled through the playlist.

The song titles blurred through the tears welling in my eyes— Take Me to Church, I Found, Mine.

I hesitated over the last one. The title felt too personal, too raw. But my thumb hovered there, drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

I pressed play.

The opening notes seeped into my skin, soft and deliberate, each word slicing through the armor I’d built around myself.

“…And I am certain, no

That you and I are crashing course

Driven by a holy force…”

I closed my eyes, the lyrics coiling around my thoughts, dragging me into a dark, intimate embrace I wasn’t sure I could escape. The melody felt like Owen himself, pulling me back into his orbit, his voice threading through the cracks in my resolve.

Memories hit me in waves—his touch, the way he’d looked at me as if I were the only thing that existed in his world. And then the darker ones, the things I tried so desperately to forget. His obsession, his control. The way he’d taken everything I thought I knew about myself and twisted it into something unrecognizable.

My chest tightened as the song swelled, the raw emotion in the lyrics mirroring the chaos inside me. I hated him. I hated how much he consumed me, how deeply he’d embedded himself into my soul.

But more than that, I hated myself for still feeling drawn to him.

The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over, hot and unrelenting. I ripped the earbuds out, the silence that followed almost deafening. My hand clenched around the iPod, my knuckles white as I stared at it, my vision blurred.

The note lay crumpled at my feet, discarded like a piece of trash. I wanted to throw the iPod after it, to sever this tether to Owen completely. But I couldn’t.

I stood abruptly, pacing the room in frantic steps. The walls felt like they were closing in, each second stretching unbearably long. I couldn’t stay here. Not with these memories. Not with his ghost haunting every corner.

But as I grabbed my bag, ready to leave, my fingers brushed against the iPod again. My grip faltered, and I stared at it, torn between rage and longing.

Without thinking, I slipped it into my pocket.

It was instinctual, automatic, like it had a hold on me I couldn’t break.

As I shut the door behind me, the weight of the iPod pressed against my leg with every step. I told myself it was nothing, that I’d get rid of it later.

But I knew the truth.

I wasn’t ready to let it go.

I wasn't ready to let him go.