The light was too bright.

It burned my eyes, made my head swim. I barely registered the heavy footsteps, the crash of the door against the wall. I shrank back, heart hammering, body too weak to do anything else.

Then—hands, not rough, not cruel.

"Hey," a voice, firm but soft. "You're safe now."

Safe. The word didn’t make sense. Nothing did. I was shaking, my ribs pressing against my skin, my wrists raw where they had been tied too tight for too long.

I felt the warmth of her presence before I could focus on her face. A uniform. A badge.

I moved before I could think, before my body even asked permission. Weak arms wrapped around her, clinging, fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt. She stiffened, just for a second, then melted into it, her hand pressing against my back—not pulling, just there.

I should’ve been embarrassed. I should’ve let go.

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

Her voice was quieter now, like she knew anything louder might break me apart. "You're gonna be okay."

I shut my eyes tight. The warmth of her, the steady rise and fall of her breath—it was the first real thing I had felt in months.

My voice was barely there, a whisper against her shoulder. "...Promise?"