Sebastian
I sit across from her as she sleeps, the dim light of the room casting soft shadows over her face. She looks so delicate, so fragile. Her chest rises and falls unevenly, as if even breathing is a struggle.
I can see the bruises on her neck, faint but unmistakable, like fingerprints left behind by someone who had no right to touch her.
It’s strange seeing her like this. Vulnerable. Elizabeth is always so guarded, her sharp tongue and stubbornness her armor. But now, as she lies here, battered and bruised, I can see the cracks in her walls. I hate it. I hate how someone could do this to her.
I run a hand through my hair and lean back in my chair, never taking my eyes off her.
A part of me wants to reach out, to hold her hand, to promise her that everything will be okay. But I
