"They didn't just break me, they hollowed me out and left the echo behind."_Unknown
The steady beep of a heart monitor echoed in the quiet room. Soft light filtered through the sheer curtains of Levi's quarters—now transformed into a private recovery space.
Maeve's eyes fluttered open.
Her vision blurred, but the sensation was immediate—numbness. Her wrists were bandaged, connected to an IV drip that pulsed in rhythm with the machine.
She blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then the memories struck.
Manacles. Chains.
Needles. The damp floor.
The sound of boots.
Pacing. Taunting.
Her chest tightened. Her heart raced. The monitor's beep quickened sharply.
She sat up too fast, gasping, her voice a cracked whisper:
"I don't know anything… I swear… I don't know… I don't know…"
The panic tumbled out like a reflex.
Levi was out of the armchair in an instant, the book in his hand dropping to the floor unnoticed. He rushed to her bedside, eyes wide, throat tight.
"Maeve—shhh," he whispered, voice raw with worry. "I'm here. I'm right here. They're gone. You're safe."
He reached out instinctively, wanting to hold her hand—but she flinched.
His hand froze mid-air, then gently retreated.
Maeve looked at him—really looked—and something inside her snapped.
She shattered.
Sobs racked her fragile body, uncontained and agonizing, trembling like a broken string pulled too tight.
Levi sat at the edge of the bed, unsure if he should stay close or give her space. But he stayed, silent, steady. The kind of presence that didn't demand to be touched but refused to leave.
Long, endless minutes passed.
Her wailing softened into deep, shuddering sobs.
"I—I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely. "I don't know why they took me. I didn't mean to cause you trouble…"
She stared blankly ahead, eyes glassy and unfocused.
She felt unclean.
Every inch of her skin burned.
She wanted to tear it off.
To rip away every place they had touched.
To scrub until nothing remained.
Levi's chest tightened, his fists clenching at his sides—but his voice… his voice softened into something he hadn't used in years.
"Why are you apologizing?" he asked quietly.
"You didn't do anything wrong."
He leaned forward, eyes fixed on hers, voice low but firm—like a sacred vow whispered in the dark.
"They've paid, Maeve. Every single one of them. I made sure of it."
His eyes glinted with restrained rage—not at her, but at what had been done.
"I promise you… no harm will ever come near you again. I'll destroy anything that tries."
But the damage…
The damage had already been done.
She didn't say a word.
She just looked away, tears still silently falling—because part of her didn't feel worthy of promises anymore.
The door eased open with a soft hiss, and the woman who entered walked with quiet authority. Dr. Ayana Rowe, a middle-aged trauma surgeon with greying curls tucked into a loose bun, held a clipboard to her chest. Her expression was neutral, but her eyes showed the tired weight of experience.
Maeve shifted on the bed, the motion stiff and careful. Her bandaged arms lay limp at her sides—wrapped, splinted, numb.
"Good morning, Maeve," Dr. Rowe said gently. "I'm your trauma doctor. I've been overseeing your condition since the moment you arrived."
Maeve blinked. Her throat was dry. "How… long?"
"Four days," the doctor replied. "You've been unconscious until today."
She took a step closer, glancing briefly at Levi standing by the bed before bringing her attention fully back to Maeve.
"I need to go over a few things," she said, her tone now more clinical, but not unkind. "You were brought in with multiple injuries. We treated extensive bruising, blood loss, and your arms—"
Maeve glanced down instinctively, seeing the thick white dressings.
"They sustained repeated punctures. Most shallow, but consistent. There were signs of binding—tight, for prolonged hours or days. This restricted blood flow and caused some nerve strain. Right now, your arms won't function normally. It'll take time—rehabilitation, and maybe further surgery."
Maeve swallowed hard, staring at her useless limbs.
But Dr. Rowe paused for a longer breath. Her eyes dipped to the clipboard, then back up—careful now. Choosing her words.
"There's… one more thing we need to discuss, and I'm sorry for the bluntness, but it's necessary."
Maeve's heart rate ticked faster on the monitor.
"We conducted a full trauma screening," Dr. Rowe said. "Which includes testing for sexual assault. You were unconscious and couldn't consent at the time, but protocol and visible injuries made it necessary."
Levi took a slow step forward, eyes narrowed with quiet tension.
Dr. Rowe continued, gently but firmly.
"There were signs of forced tearing in your lower reproductive tract. From the pattern and severity, it appears you were… a virgin before the trauma occurred."
Maeve's breath caught.
The doctor's voice softened. "The tearing has already begun to heal. No signs of infection, thankfully. But… Maeve, I need you to know this was not your fault."
Maeve stared at her. Then stared through her.
She felt herself detach—sinking inward like her body no longer belonged to her. Shame curled around her chest like a noose. Her stomach twisted, bile rising to her throat.
She didn't speak.
Dr. Rowe continued carefully, "A trauma counselor will come tomorrow to help you process. You're not alone. And you have every right to feel everything you're feeling."
Maeve still said nothing.
Then, slowly, almost like in slow motion, she turned her head toward Levi.
And regret stabbed deeper than any knife.
He had that look—soft but fierce, angry but broken. But all Maeve felt was a hollowness she couldn't fill.
How could she look him in the eye?
How could she not feel ruined?
She turned her face toward the wall, quietly, and closed her eyes.
"I need everyone to leave," she said.
Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
Levi didn't move. He wanted to protest.
But Dr. Rowe gently placed a hand on his arm. "She needs space," she said softly.
They both left, and the room went still again.
She didn't sob anymore. She didn't scream.
Tears simply dropped. As if mourning a version of herself she'd never get back.