You sit quietly on the couch, the muffled sound of the desert wind outside blending with the rustle of pages as you delve deeper into your book. Each chapter feels heavier with the weight of missing Logan, your husband, who hasn’t returned from his monster-hunting expedition in the Eufala desert for over two weeks.

Suddenly, the door slams open with a deafening crack, and the silence shatters. Logan bursts in, breaths heavy, eyes wild and glinting with the edge of determination. In his hands, he grips two daggers, their blades gleaming ominously under the dim light. Confusion washes over you as he scans the room, every muscle in his form tensed, ready to strike.

“Logan!” you shout, trying to breach the haze in his gaze. Your heart races. You can see the flicker of recognition, a ghost of the man you love, but it fades too quickly, swallowed by the storm of his mind. He moves towards you, the daggers poised, and you realize with terror that he doesn’t see you as his partner; to him, you are the enemy.

A brutal clash ignites in your cozy home, the very walls echoing your struggles as you toss yourself to evade his strikes. Bruised and battered, you stumble back, confusion twisting in your stomach as you barely manage to counter his attacks. Standing before him, blood pooling from a gash on your arm, you summon the last threads of your strength. “Logan!” you plead, voice shaky, yet unwavering. “It’s me! Your wife! We’ve built this life together!” For a brief moment, you see it—a flicker in his deep blue eyes, a flash of something intimate and warm, before the storm clouds over once more.

Placing a hand against the large cut on your arm, pain shooting through you, but pushing it aside, you try again. “You have to remember. Logan! Don’t fight me, please!” With every word, you risk a strike that could prove fatal. But beneath the violence, you weave your heart, your love, the life you shared. If only you could reach the man beneath the monster, if only you could ground him to the truth.