THE MONSTER WHO STAYED TO WATCH HER SLEEP

The room was too quiet.

Too soft.

Too warm for someone like me.

She slept curled toward the wall, the blanket barely covering her shoulder, her hands loose and relaxed—nothing like the girl who had looked at me with such terrified defiance hours ago.

I should’ve left after patching her up.

I should’ve walked out the door, shut off the connection, and reminded myself she was nothing more than a job gone wrong.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I sat in the chair across from her bed, elbows on my knees, trying to make sense of the ache under my ribs.

I had killed people for less than what she did—fighting me, bargaining with me, staring at me like she could see through every lie I told myself.

Yet here I was, watching her breathe.

A pathetic, dangerous mistake.

Her face shifted, a soft exhale leaving her lips as she nudged closer to the blanket. Instinct moved faster than thought.

Before I realized it, I stood beside her bed and tugged the blanket up over her shoulder.

She sighed, unconsciously leaning into the warmth.

My chest tightened—an unfamiliar, unwelcome sensation.

Something I should’ve crushed the moment it appeared.

But I didn’t.

---

“Why are you still here?”

Her voice cracked through the silence like a blade.

My jaw clenched.

She wasn’t fully awake—her eyes were barely open, lashes trembling, voice soaked with sleep. But she was aware enough to feel me standing there.

I stepped back, clearing my throat.

“You talk too much even when you’re half unconscious.”

“Maybe I talk to remind myself I’m still alive,” she murmured.

That hit deeper than it should have.

Her eyes met mine then—drowsy, unfocused, but not afraid. Not the same way as earlier. Something warmer flickered there, something that should’ve died the moment she learned what I was.

I hated it.

And I wanted it.

“I’m still here,” I said stiffly, “because you’d be dead without me.”

She blinked slowly. “Is that why you keep looking at me? To make sure your work doesn’t get… undone?”

I didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Her gaze softened in a way that made my throat tighten. “You look tired,” she whispered. “Like you haven’t slept in… a long time.”

Why did she say things like that?

Why did she look at me like I was more than the monster who dragged her from her home?

Her eyes slipped shut again, exhaustion finally winning.

---

The Past Never Stays Buried

I sank into the chair again. My hand went to the chain around my neck before I realized it.

The ring dangled from it—thin, gold, dented on one side.

A woman’s ring.

Her ring.

My breath stilled.

I hadn’t touched it in months, hadn’t even let myself think of the girl who used to wear it. The girl whose laugh still haunted the quiet moments. The one I lost. The one I failed to save.

The reason I had become this.

The reason killing became easier than feeling.

Soft footsteps crossed my mind like memories do—uninvited, inconvenient, and deadly.

She reminded me of her.

Not in the way she looked, but in the way she kept surviving. The way she refused to break, even when I tried to shatter her.

I curled the ring into my fist, knuckles whitening.

“I’m not doing this again,” I muttered under my breath. “I’m not losing another one.”

The words tasted like blood and truth.

---

A Tremor in the Dark

She flinched in her sleep.

Not a small twitch—her whole body jerked, like someone had grabbed her. A choked whimper escaped her lips.

Nightmare.

Her breathing turned shallow. Rapid.

Her fingers curled into tight fists.

Without thinking, I crossed the space between us and kneeled beside the bed.

“Hey,” I whispered, touching her wrist lightly. “You’re safe. Wake up.”

Her eyes snapped open, wide and glassy. Her chest rose too fast, panic choking her breath.

She stared at me like she wasn’t sure if I was real.

“Elias,” she whispered.

It was the first time she said my name without fear.

The sound hit me harder than any bullet ever had.

“You’re fine,” I said, voice low. “It was just a dream.”

She swallowed. “It wasn’t.”

Her hand trembled as she lifted it—slowly, cautiously—like she expected me to push it away.

I didn’t.

Her fingers brushed mine.

A ghost of a touch.

But I felt it everywhere.

“Why are you being kind to me?” she asked, voice breaking. “You were supposed to kill me.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

I should’ve lied.

Instead, I said the truth I’d been avoiding.

“I don’t know anymore.”

Her lips parted, shock flickering across her face. Her breathing steadied. Her shoulders relaxed just slightly.

She trusted me.

A foolish, dangerous thing.

Maybe she didn’t understand yet.

I was her captor.

Her enemy.

Her undoing.

And yet… her presence made me feel something I thought I’d buried with the girl whose ring hung around my neck.

Something like wanting to be someone different.

Someone better.

Someone worthy.

I stood abruptly, breaking the moment before it could become something neither of us could escape.

“Try to sleep,” I said.

She looked at me like she wanted to ask something else.

But she only whispered, “Stay.”

The word rooted me to the floor.

I didn’t answer.

But I sat in the chair again.

And stayed.

Even when the sun rose.

Even when my past clawed at my mind.

Even when I knew this would destroy us both.

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