Elias’ Possession

Fragments of Survival

The silence of the room was suffocating, pressing down on me like the weight of everything I’d lost. I stared at the cracked wall opposite me, trying to make sense of the patterns in the flaking paint. It didn’t work. Nothing worked. My thoughts were scattered, pieces of a puzzle I couldn’t put back together.

I didn’t know how long I’d been here. Hours? Days? Maybe longer. Time had folded in on itself since I’d been taken. Every sound outside the door made my heart lurch, but I was too numb to move, too scared to hope.

Somewhere out there, Elias was searching for me. Or at least, I told myself he was. The memory of his face—sharp, determined, always watching—was the only thing keeping me from slipping into the void entirely. But what if he didn’t find me?

The sound of boots thudding against concrete jolted me back. The door burst open, and there he was—Elias, looking wild, a gun in his hand and blood staining his shirt. My breath caught in my throat.

“Zahra!” he called, his voice rough but steady.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

He crossed the room in three long strides, his hands shaking as he touched my face. “Are you hurt? Can you walk?”

I nodded faintly. Words felt foreign, lodged in my throat.

“Let’s go.”

The escape was chaos and fire. Gunshots rang out around us like a relentless storm. Elias kept me close, shielding me with his body as we wove through narrow hallways and into the open night. My legs barely carried me, and when I stumbled, he caught me without breaking stride.

“Stay with me!” he barked, his voice cutting through the cacophony.

“I’ll get us to a safe house”. Those were the last words I heard before I passed out.

By the time we reached the safe house, I was shaking from exhaustion and shock.

The safe house was not what I expected. It wasn’t a dingy hideout or a cold, empty room. It was a cabin tucked away in a grove of trees, with soft yellow light spilling out of the windows. The smell of cedar and wildflowers greeted us as we stepped inside. A plush rug covered the wooden floor, and a stone fireplace crackled warmly in the corner.

Elias secured the door, locking it with a series of bolts. Then he turned to me, his gaze softening. “You’re safe now,” he said, his voice gentle.

Safe. The word didn’t mean anything anymore.

I slumped onto a soft armchair, curling into myself. The warmth of the room felt foreign, almost wrong, after the cold emptiness I’d grown used to.

Elias crouched in front of me, holding out a bottle of water and a piece of bread. “Eat something,” he urged.

I stared at him, unblinking.

“Zahra.” His voice was firmer now. “You need to eat.”

When I didn’t move, he sighed and placed the food on the small table beside me.

Minutes—or maybe hours—passed before he moved again. “You’re filthy,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

I flinched at the words, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ll run you a bath,” he added, disappearing into the adjoining bathroom.

The sound of running water filled the cabin, a soothing contrast to the chaos that had been my reality. When he returned, he knelt beside me and extended a hand. “Come on.”

I followed him silently. The bathroom was small but serene, with soft lighting and a deep porcelain tub. Steam rose from the water, carrying the faint scent of lavender.

Elias reached for the hem of my shirt, and I froze.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “Let me help you.”

I didn’t resist as he peeled away my clothes, piece by piece, until I was bare. Vulnerability coursed through me, but I couldn’t summon the energy to fight.

He guided me into the warm water, his touch firm but careful. The heat seeped into my skin, loosening the tension in my muscles. For the first time in days, I felt something close to relief.

Elias knelt beside the tub, dipping a cloth into the water. He began to wash me, his movements slow and deliberate. His hand lingered as he traced a line along my arm, and I tensed.

“You’re okay,” he murmured.

But when his hand slid lower, brushing against my thigh, my body reacted instinctively. I hissed, jerking away from him.

“What are you doing?” I snapped, my voice sharp and raw.

He froze, his hand hovering midair. “I—”

“Don’t,” I interrupted, wrapping my arms around myself.

The air between us was heavy with unspoken words. He stood abruptly, his jaw tight. “Finish up,” he said, his voice curt, before leaving the room.

When I emerged, wrapped in a towel, Elias was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

“I need to explain something,” he said without looking up.

I stayed silent, sitting down in the armchair across from him.

“This is all my fault,” he began, his voice low and strained. “You were taken because of me. Because of what I’ve done.”

He paused, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m not a good man, Zahra,” he continued. “I’ve done things—things I can’t undo. Sleeks’ daughter… I killed her. That’s why they took you. Retaliation.”

The words hung in the air like a physical weight.

“I thought I could protect you,” he said, his voice cracking. “But I was wrong. I brought this on you.”

My mind raced, trying to process his confession. Sleeks’ daughter. A murder. And now, this—my kidnapping, my trauma—all because of him.

He looked up at me then, his eyes filled with something that looked like regret. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.”

For a long moment, I said nothing. The fire crackled softly in the background, filling the silence.

When I finally spoke, my voice was flat. “You’re married?”

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked like I’d slapped him.

The corner of my lips twitched—not a smile, but the ghost of something bitter. “You didn’t think to mention that before?”