Chapter 3: When Silence Shattered

The day of the accident, the sky had opened up with an endless torrent of rain. The kind of storm that made the world feel heavy and blurred, as if the earth itself was drowning. I had been sitting beside Daemon in his car, the tension between us as thick as the storm outside. I was fifteen now, and Daemon was twenty-three—an age that felt light-years away from my own. Our lives had drifted apart even though we lived under the same roof, and I had come to accept that the silence between us was just how things were.

It was raining so hard that the wipers struggled to keep up with the downpour, the rhythmic sweep doing little to clear the windshield. I stared out at the sheets of water cascading down the glass, the city lights flickering like ghosts through the storm. Daemon drove in silence, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his expression unreadable, as always. I wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, but the words stuck in my throat.

He never made it easy. Over the years, I had grown used to the walls he had built between us—high, impenetrable, cold. Sometimes I felt like I was banging my fists against a door that would never open. But even now, after all the rejection, I still found myself craving his approval, his recognition, as though one day, he might see me as more than just a mistake in his perfect world.

I glanced over at him, watching the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly as the rain pelted the roof of the car. His profile was sharp, illuminated briefly by the flash of a streetlight. There was something about Daemon that was always in control, always calculated, but in moments like this, when I caught him off guard, I saw the tension beneath the surface. I wondered what he was thinking, if he ever thought about me at all.

The road ahead was slick with rain, the tires occasionally slipping on the wet asphalt. Daemon's hands tightened on the wheel, his knuckles turning white. The storm made everything feel unstable, as though at any moment the ground could give way beneath us.

And then it did.

I felt it before I saw it—the sudden loss of traction as the car began to slide. My breath caught in my throat as the tires skidded across the rain-soaked road, the headlights cutting through the storm in wild, jagged arcs. Panic surged through me, my heart racing as the car spun out of control.

"Daemon!" I shouted, my voice trembling with fear.

His reaction was immediate. He yanked the steering wheel, trying to correct the slide, but the rain had made the road too slippery. The car fishtailed, the rear tires skidding across the asphalt, and then—impact. A deafening crash as the car slammed into something solid. The force of it threw me forward, my head smacking against the side window, pain exploding in my skull.

Everything spun for a moment. The sound of the collision echoed in my ears, the world tilting wildly as my vision blurred. I heard the crunch of metal, the shatter of glass, and then silence—so much silence that it felt like the whole world had stopped.

I blinked, dazed, trying to make sense of what had just happened. My head throbbed, and when I touched my forehead, my fingers came away slick with blood. But I was conscious. I was okay.

Panic surged through me as I turned to look at him. He was slumped against the steering wheel, blood running down his temple, his body motionless. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, but he wasn't moving. My heart seized in my chest, fear tightening its grip on me.

"Daemon!" I cried, reaching for him, shaking his arm. "Daemon, wake up!"

He didn't respond. He didn't even stir. My hands were shaking as I fumbled for my seatbelt, unbuckling it with trembling fingers. I pushed open the door, the cold rain hitting me like a slap in the face, but I barely felt it. All I could think about was getting Daemon out of the car, getting help.

I stumbled around to his side, the ground slick beneath my feet as I yanked open the driver's side door. Daemon's body was heavy, limp, and it took every ounce of strength I had to pull him out. The rain poured down on us, soaking through my clothes, but I didn't care. I dragged him away from the wreckage, my muscles straining under his weight, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Please, please be okay," I whispered, my voice trembling as I knelt beside him, the rain mixing with the blood on his face. I reached for my phone, my hands slippery with rainwater as I dialed for help, my voice barely steady as I told the operator where we were.

Time seemed to stretch on forever, the rain pounding against the asphalt, the world around us a blur. I held Daemon's hand, my fingers clutching his, as if my grip alone could keep him grounded, keep him from slipping away.

Please don't leave me, I thought, my mind racing with fear. Don't leave me like this.

---

The paramedics arrived faster than I expected, their flashing lights cutting through the storm. They moved quickly, efficiently, checking Daemon's vitals and lifting him onto a stretcher. I stood back, soaked and shivering, my mind numb as they worked. The sound of their voices was muffled, as though I was hearing everything from underwater.

I don't remember much of the ambulance ride to the hospital. Everything felt like a blur—the flashing lights, the sound of the rain still pounding against the windows. All I could focus on was Daemon—his pale face, his stillness. The fear that had taken root in my chest refused to let go.

When we arrived at the hospital, they whisked him away, leaving me standing in the waiting room, soaked to the bone, my head throbbing with the pain of my own injuries. But I didn't care about myself. I didn't care that my vision was still blurry from the hit I'd taken. All I cared about was Daemon.

I don't know how long I waited. Time felt irrelevant, my thoughts consumed by worry, fear, guilt. I kept thinking about the moment before the crash, how I had glanced at him, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he ever thought of me at all. And now, I didn't know if I'd ever get the chance to ask him.

Hours passed, or maybe it was minutes—it was hard to tell. I sat in the sterile waiting room, the smell of antiseptic filling my lungs, my clothes still damp from the rain. I barely noticed when our parents arrived, their faces pale with concern. They spoke with the doctors, their voices a murmur in the background, but I didn't register the words. I was too focused on Daemon, too focused on the fear that gnawed at me.

Eventually, our parents left—business meetings, as always. They couldn't stay, not even for this.

But I stayed. I stayed because I couldn't leave him, not when he was like this, not when he needed me.

When they finally let me into his room, Daemon was still unconscious, his face pale but peaceful. The cuts on his face had been bandaged, and his arm was in a sling, but he was alive. He was going to be okay.

I pulled a chair up beside his bed and sat down, my body aching with exhaustion, but I couldn't bring myself to sleep. I watched him, watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyelids fluttered in his unconscious state. For the first time in years, Daemon didn't look cold or distant. He looked fragile, vulnerable.

And in that moment, I realized something—I couldn't lose him. Not like this.