Sandwiches.
The last meal they had shared before everything shattered.
She worked slowly; her hands steady even as memories swirled. Cutting the bread into neat triangles, she smiled faintly. Maybe this would remind him of something good something before Derek. Waiting for him, she rested her head on the counter and drifted into sleep.
The dream came fast.
She was back in the storage room.
The air was thick, suffocating, the single bulb overhead flickering weakly. The ropes around her wrists bit into her skin tighter than before, as if they were alive, swelling with every heartbeat. She pulled against them, but the fibres only cut deeper, the pain slicing through her arms.
Then came the sound. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, like the ticking of a clock counting down.
Derek's shadow filled the doorway before his body did, tall and jagged. His face emerged from the dark, twisted with anger, his eyes fever-bright.
"Thought you could run from me?" His voice rasped, low and dangerous.
"No," she whispered, her throat raw, "please don't tie me down again. Let me go. Please."
Her pleas fell into silence. He only grinned, stepping closer, each movement echoing like thunder in her head. The smell of oil and dust choked her lungs.
The rope in his hands looked thicker, heavier than before. His fingers flexed around it as if savouring the moment.
"Beg louder," he sneered. "I like it when you beg."
Susan shook her head violently, tears spilling hot down her face. "Please, Derek. I'll do anything. Just don't…."
He lunged forward, and she felt the burn of the rope against her skin as he looped it around her neck. Her chest seized with panic. She kicked, thrashed, screamed but the sound barely carried in the suffocating dark.
"Mine," he hissed, pulling the rope tighter, crushing her plea into silence. "You'll always be mine."
Her world spun. The shadows closed in. Her lungs screamed for air.
"Susan."
Her body jolted awake, the word slicing through the nightmare.
Chris was there, his strong hands steadying her before she slipped from the chair. His scent clean, grounding rushed over her, pulling her back from the dark. Gentle palms framed her face.
"It's just a dream," he whispered, voice low but sure, anchoring her to reality.
She broke, collapsing against him, clutching him like her life depended on it. His hand rubbed slowly up and down her back, steady and calming, until the terror ebbed.
"You're not there anymore," he murmured, over and over, until her breathing slowed.
When she finally pulled away, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to compose herself. He frowned. "Why are you sleeping here?"
She turned and lifted the plate of sandwiches from the counter. His eyes softened as she whispered, "I made sandwiches."
Chris stepped closer, took one, and bit into it. She smiled, explaining quietly, "I always make these when you come over. Remember?"
He remembered. Too well. The taste of bread and cheese turned to ash in his mouth as the memory surfaced the last time, they'd eaten sandwiches together. The same day Derek took her.
His shoulders tensed. His jaw clenched.
Susan caught the change instantly. "Don't do that," she whispered. "Don't pull away."
"I'm not…."
"You just remembered," she said softly. "That it was the same day."
His silence was answer enough.
"Why are you beating yourself up so much, Chris?" Her voice cracked with desperation. "You had nothing to do with it. I opened the door. I trusted the wrong person. Derek almost killed me twice and I forgave myself. But you? You're drowning in guilt. Please, don't make me regret ever letting you in."
His head snapped up at that, eyes burning.
"It's like I ruined you along with myself," she whispered.
"Don't." His voice was hoarse, raw. "Don't ever say that again. Don't ever let that thoughts…."
"Then be the Chris I fell for."
Her hand slid to his cheek, then behind his neck. Before he could respond, she pulled him down into a kiss. Bold. Unapologetic. Exactly the fire that had always drawn him to her.
He froze for half a second, then gave in, kissing her deeply. The world narrowed to just them. He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist, placing her gently on the counter.
"You're still healing," he murmured against her lips, torn between restraint and desire.
She whined softly, and he chuckled, pulling back. "Trust me, I want to take you right here. But not yet."
Her eyes flashed in frustration. "Don't talk to me like I'm some kid. I can do what I want."
She slid off the counter, glaring at him, hands on her hips.
He smirked. "That glare should only be a one-time thing."
She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth lifted as she walked away.