Chapter 1
Naya
Death itself shrouds theworld in a cloak of apprehension and dread as the vehicle moves under me, the sound humming through the crowded space. Yet it has never felt more captivating, not even as the night surrenders the last glimmer of daylight.
The fate of death is like a tranquil river, steadily flowing toward the unknown, carrying the burdens of souls seeking refuge in unknown realms, preserving their very essences—a beauty to behold.
That feeling of disconnection and relief is something I have long sought, but never quite achieved, despite my many attempts.
“Do you think she will be okay?” A dark, masculine voice comes from the front seat, yet it feels too far away to discern where it even is.
“She’s strong, Daxton,” another voice replies.
If I were strong, I would have ended my life back at the dollhouse, or know what freedom tastes like.
Now, it’s an unknown concept I know nothing about.
My fingertips trace my reflection in the car’s window, the surface cold beneath my touch, as I tune out their voices. I don’t care, not really. Reality seems elusive, slipping through my grasp like wisps of smoke carried away by the breeze. I tentatively study the contours of my face but find only a sense of detachment, adrift in the maze of my thoughts, unable to grasp anything around me.
Obscured by tears clinging to my lashes like dewdrops thatrefuse to let go, my reflection blurs. I struggle to recognize myself—my face too pallid, my hands trembling uncontrollably as I touch the window, hoping it might tether me to the present.
“All she does is sit there, staring out the window. She hasn’t spoken a word since we left hours ago.”
The world whizzes past me outside the moving vehicle—I never thought I would see the world like this again. How long was I in captivity? Prohibited from experiencing the world and reveling in the freedom that comes with it?
Too long.
“Leave her alone.”
Shakily, I pull my knees up to my chest, hugging them as if the motion itself could protect me from the horrors etching across my soul like a wound that will never heal.
Pressing my forehead against the window, I breathe deeply—I can’t fucking breathe.
Silence descends over the small, suffocating vehicle, but it does nothing against the feeling of someone watching me through the rearview mirror.
I wanted to die.Why am I alive?
“Little doll?”
I look up to the sound of Grey’s voice, eyes clashing with his in the rearview mirror. Unspoken questions linger in his eyes, questions I’m not prepared to face.
I give him a curt nod to let him know I’m present. His continued observation unnerves me, sending a ripple of unease through my veins.
“Geez, I won’t do anything,” I snap, my frustration boiling over as I notice the worry etched into his features.
The weight of his concern only adds to the burden I carry, and it all presses down on me like a heavy cloud of guilt. I avert my gaze, staring at the world outside, a blur of motion that offers no solace as I drown in an endless sea.
“See?” a voice grumbles.
“Fuck off, Daxton.”
Staring back out the window, I ignore their arguing.
Memories assault my senses, a relentless onslaught of past horrors that threaten to overwhelm me. It’s been more than four years since the accident my mom deliberately caused, yet the image of the car careening off the road, the sickening crash as it collided with the trees, and the jarring impact that left me unconscious, all replay in my mind like a broken record. She wanted to paralyze me momentarily until the master would come to claim me.
The pain and terror I experienced in that moment echo through me now, and I hug my knees tighter, willing away the vivid recollections.
A sudden warm caress against my trembling hand makes my body jolt in surprise, my heart quickening its pace. Grey’s tired eyes meet mine, dark circles beneath them betraying his exhaustion. He’s waiting for my reaction, concern etched into his features.
