Kaylee stopped sleeping.
Every time she closed her eyes, the loft reappeared. The straps. The flash of the camera. Her own scream echoing in an empty room.
She'd survived it.
But survival didn't feel like safety.
Now, even her dreams were weapons.
---
“Eat something," Clarence said one morning, setting a tray beside her bed.
She sat on the edge, hair tangled, eyes distant. “Not hungry."
“You've barely touched anything in three days."
Kaylee shrugged. “Didn't realize I had to perform recovery too."
He hesitated. “You don't have to perform anything. Just… breathe."
She turned to him slowly. “Do you know what it's like to breathe and feel nothing?"
He didn't answer.
She lay back down. “Then leave."
---
Clarence tried everything after that.
He brought in private therapists, art
