Chapter 11: The Nightmare*

The darkness was suffocating. Thick, inky blackness pressed against Marie's skin like a damp, cold cloth. She could hear her breath echoing in the void, each exhale shaky and uneven. Somewhere, far away, there was the sound of dripping water—steady, rhythmic, maddening. She tried to move, but her limbs were heavy, weighted down like they were submerged in deep water.

A creak. Footsteps.

Her pulse quickened, the familiar dread crawling up her spine. She wasn't alone.

Suddenly, the darkness split open like a wound, and she was in that basement again. The air was rank with mildew and old blood, the walls bare and gray, covered in deep scratches like something—or someone—had tried desperately to claw their way out. The metal chair sat in the center of the room, cold and menacing, with leather straps dangling like waiting hands.

She wasn't strapped in anymore, but she could still feel the tightness around her wrists and ankles, the bite of the restraints that had held her down. The knife flashed in her mind—the way it gleamed as it hovered over her, the cool blade against her throat. His voice echoed, too—low, calm, like he was enjoying the sound of his own words.

"You're going to die here, Marie."*

Her heart raced, pounding against her chest. She looked around, desperate for an escape, but the walls seemed to close in, the space shrinking, trapping her. The smell of iron filled her nose. Blood—so much blood. Her blood.

Then she saw him.

He stepped out from the shadows, his face obscured but familiar in the way nightmares always are. His figure loomed over her, the knife gleaming in his hand like before. But this time, his smile was wider, crueler, and she could feel the malice radiating from him.

"You're weak, Kanker."* His voice was a sickly whisper now, close to her ear. *"You don't belong here. You never did."*

Marie screamed, raising her arms to shield herself, as the knife came down—

—And she woke, gasping, drenched in cold sweat, the remnants of her scream still caught in her throat.

The faint glow of the streetlights outside her window cast long shadows across the room. Marie's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in ragged gulps as she tried to shake the terror that still clung to her. Her hands trembled as she pushed the covers off and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

She had to get out. She needed air.

Barefoot and still shaking, Marie padded over to the window, slipping out onto the fire escape with practiced ease. The cool night air kissed her skin, and she welcomed it, letting the chill cut through the lingering haze of nightmare. She reached back in her window to snatch her cigarettes off the nightstand. Then she took a seat, dangling her bare legs through the metal bars of the fire escape. She lit the cigarette and held it. Just holding it between her fingers seemed to help—a familiar weight, a distraction from the restless churn inside her.

She leaned against the rusted railing, staring out at the quiet street below, watching the faint glow of headlights pass in the distance. Her breathing began to slow, though her chest still ached from the terror that hadn't quite left her. Absentmindedly, she flicked the cigarette and watched the ashes disappear in the night air.

"You okay?"

The voice startled her, and she turned to see Edd standing on the stairs of the fire escape leading up to his apartment, half-hidden in shadow. His hair was tousled from sleep, his glasses slightly askew, but his eyes—wide, dark, and full of concern—were focused entirely on her.

Marie exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. "Yeah. Just… couldn't sleep."

Edd stepped out onto the fire escape landing, the metal groaning softly beneath his weight. He didn't ask what had woken her—he never pushed her like that. Instead, he sat beside her on the railing, his presence quiet and steady, like an anchor.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the sounds of the city below filling the space between them. Edd's gaze fell to the cigarette in her hand.

"Still trying to quit?" he asked softly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Marie chuckled, though the sound was hollow. "Yeah. Seems like it's a little harder on nights like this."

Edd nodded, his eyes flicking back up to her face. "Nightmare?"

She didn't answer immediately, but her silence was all the confirmation he needed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked gently, his voice barely above a whisper.

Marie swallowed hard, she'd never told anyone the details of what happened. The report of course held all the details of someone wanted to read it and the story had to told in court, but never had she put the burden of knowing on anyone she cared about

"Yeah," she finally admitted, her voice tight. "My last case with the FBI was a serial killer. He would keep his victims in his basement for several days, torturing them before they died. I missed the signs that the killer was someone I knew and when I realized it, I was supposed to be the next victim. I almost didn't make it out alive."

Edd's eyes softened, and without saying a word, he moved closer, his hand hovering just above her arm before resting lightly on her shoulder. His touch was warm, grounding.

"You're not there anymore," he said quietly. "You got out. You survived."

The words hit her harder than she expected, a lump forming in her throat. She closed her eyes, trying to push the images of the nightmare away. But they clung to her, the terror, the helplessness, the way the knife had felt so close to ending everything.

"I thought I was going to die strapped to that chair," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I still feel like… sometimes I feel like I didn't really make it out."

Edd's grip tightened just slightly, a small gesture of comfort. "You did, though. You're here. And you're still fighting."

Marie opened her eyes, blinking away the moisture that had started to gather there. She glanced over at Edd, his expression so sincere, so full of compassion that it nearly broke her.

"You're not alone in this, Marie," he said softly. "Not anymore."

The fire escape was quiet again, save for the distant hum of the city. Edd stayed close, his warmth a silent reminder that she didn't have to carry the weight of her past alone.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Marie let herself believe it.

Her fingers loosened on the cigarette, and she flicked it over the railing, watching it disappear into the darkness below.

Edd smiled gently, watching her. "Good choice."

Marie managed a small, wry smile in return, the tension in her chest easing just slightly. "Yeah, well, maybe I'll kick the habit after all."

Edd chuckled, and for a brief moment, the heaviness lifted, replaced by something lighter, warmer. He stayed by her side, the silence between them no longer a burden, but a comfort.

As they sat there together, shoulder to shoulder on the fire escape, Marie realized that maybe—just maybe—she could start to leave the nightmares behind.

Or at the very least, she didn't have to face them alone.