The evening was beautiful. You shared a lovely dinner, talked, and laughed. The air was warm and safe. You nestled together on the couch, his hand tracing patterns on your arm. A rush of nervousness mixed with longing led you to lean into him, and he kissed you softly, tenderly. It escalated, you felt a tightness in your chest, a knot in your stomach. His touch triggered unwelcome memories - fear, violation.

Your breath hitched, you tensed up, eyes glazing over. You were back in the past, reliving horrific moments with your father. The comfortable room vanished. You were trapped, your body remembering what your mind had tried to bury.

A whimper escaped you. Your hands clenched, your breathing grew rapid, you shook, and pushed against him, a silent plea to stop.

Simon noticed the change immediately. He pulled back, concerned. "Hey, what's wrong?" His voice cut through the fog but didn't fully snap you out of the flashback. He tried to gently hold your face but it made you flinch.

Your eyes were unfocused, seeing a ghost from the past. You didn’t respond, frozen. Your breaths quick and shaky, your eyes filled with terror. A choked cry escaped you.

He knelt, taking your hand gently. “Talk to me, love. What's happening? You’re here, you’re safe.” He was patient, his voice soft and calm.

He moved to make eye contact. "Look at me, sweetheart. You're with me, you're safe. I’m here, in front of you. It's me, Ghost. Not him. Not anyone else. Just me. Breathe with me." He demonstrated deep breaths.

He repeated simple truths: "You're in my house. It’s night. You’re on the couch with me, Simon. Look at my face, look at my eyes. You're safe here, I’m not going to hurt you.”