118. Thank you
Aiden tried wiping his face, but his hands were shaking too much.
His breath was uneven, sharp, painful — the kind that comes from holding everything inside for too long.
Marcelline heard it all.
Every trembling inhale.
Every broken exhale.
Every silent sob he tried to hide.
"Aiden," she whispered gently, "listen to me… breathe."
He bit his lip hard, trying.
"Y-you don't… understand…" he choked.
"I don't need to understand everything," she replied softly.
"Just breathe with me. Okay?"
Aiden closed his eyes, nodding even though she couldn't see.
Marcelline inhaled deeply on the phone — slow, steady, calming.
"Just follow my breathing," she said.
Aiden tried.
Inhale… shaky.
Exhale… trembling.
But he tried.
Again.
And again.
Marcelline didn't rush him.
She didn't judge him.
She just stayed on the other side, breathing with him, grounding him, anchoring him back to himself.
"Aiden… you're safe," she said softly.
"You're not alone."
Those words hit him harder than anything.
No one had said that to him in weeks.
"Marcelline…" he whispered, voice cracking completely.
"Thank you… I—I didn't know who to talk to…"
"You don't have to explain," she murmured.
"I can hear your heart hurting."
Aiden covered his face again, crying silently.
He wasn't crying loudly — he didn't have the strength for that — but the quiet sobs were deeper, rawer.
Marcelline listened to everything.
Not turning away.
Not hanging up.
Not getting scared by his pain.
Just there.
A steady, warm presence in the coldest months of his life.
--
Down the hallway, Maximilian stepped out of his room for water — something he rarely did outside late hours now.
He walked past Aiden's door.
And froze.
Because he heard it.
A soft, broken whisper.
A choked breath.
A quiet sob.
Maximilian's heart dropped instantly.
"Aiden…?"
He stepped closer, slowly, not wanting to startle him.
He could hear Aiden's voice through the door — shaking, fragile, trying to breathe.
Max's chest tightened painfully.
He'd been so consumed with his own guilt, his own trauma… he didn't realize how deeply Aiden was drowning too.
Max's hand hovered over the door.
He wanted to knock.
He wanted to enter.
He wanted to hold Aiden the same way Chloe had held him.
But then he heard something else:
A girl's voice.
Soft.
Warm.
Comforting.
Marcelline.
Max recognized the tone — even through a wall.
An angelic voice guiding Aiden through his panic like she was holding his soul together from miles away.
"Breathe… you're okay… you're not alone…"
Max leaned back slightly, a conflicted breath leaving him.
Part of him wanted to go inside.
But another part…
A gentler part…
Saw something he hadn't seen in weeks.
Aiden wasn't alone.
He had someone.
Someone who understood him.
Someone he trusted enough to break in front of.
Someone patient enough to sit through his silence.
Someone warm enough to pull him back from the edge.
Max touched the wall gently, lowering his head.
A small, relieved whisper escaped his lips:
"…Thank you… whoever you are."
He didn't know Marcelline well.
But in that moment?
She was holding Aiden together better than any of them could.
Max wiped a tear from his eye before it fell — a rare, vulnerable moment.
Then he quietly walked away, letting Aiden have this moment.
For the first time in three weeks…
Maximilian felt a tiny flame of hope.
Not for himself.
But for Aiden.
---
As Aiden struggled to breathe through tears, Marcelline's heart twisted painfully.
Because this trembling voice…
This broken, fragile breathing…
This desperate silence…
It reminded her of Mia — her beloved little 3-year-old girl.
Not her by blood…
But by heart.
Mia was Amara's daughter, but Marcelline loved her like she was her own soul.
Whenever Mia had nightmares or cried until she couldn't speak, Marcelline would gather her into her arms, humming softly and rubbing her back until the fear melted away.
And now…
Hearing Aiden sob quietly on the phone…
Her instincts shifted instantly.
Her voice softened to the same soothing warmth she used with Mia.
"Aiden," she whispered, as though holding his trembling heart in her palms,
"just breathe… slowly… you're doing so well."
Aiden felt something he hadn't felt in weeks — safety.
It wasn't romantic right now.
It wasn't admiration.
It was the kind of comfort he had longed for without realizing.
Soft.
Warm.
Protective.
Like a motherly embrace through the phone.
Marcelline unknowingly treated him exactly like Mia — with pure, unconditional comfort.
--
When Aiden's breathing steadied even a little, Marcelline exhaled slowly.
"Can you tell me… even a little… what happened?" she asked softly.
"Only what feels okay to say. Nothing more."
Aiden's grip tightened around his phone.
He opened his mouth —
Closed it.
Tried again —
His throat locked.
He shook his head even though she couldn't see.
"I… I'm scared," he whispered.
"I don't want you to think I'm… crazy."
"I won't," Marcelline replied instantly.
"I promise you — whatever hurt you, it's valid. Your feelings are real."
Her calm voice sank into him like medicine.
Aiden wiped his tears, breath still rough.
"I… I saw something…" he whispered shakily.
"Something no one will ever believe."
Marcelline's eyes softened, not with shock, but with recognition.
She didn't push.
She didn't gaslight him.
"You don't have to force yourself," she murmured.
"Just say what your heart can handle."
Aiden swallowed hard.
His voice shook.
"It was… a nightmare. A real one. And I can't forget it."
Marcelline understood he was telling the truth — but too afraid to go further.
---
Aiden drew a shaky breath.
"I… someone died," he whispered.
Marcelline's heart froze for a moment.
"Someone close?" she asked softly.
"N-no," Aiden said quickly, voice breaking,
"I mean — I shouldn't — I can't — if I say it out loud, you'll think I'm sick in the head."
Marcelline's voice became even gentler, almost a whisper of a whisper.
"Aiden… look at me in your mind," she said softly.
"I'm not judging you. I'm not leaving. You can tell me just a fragment if that helps."
Silence.
Aiden trembled.
Then—
"I saw blood," he whispered, breath hitched.
"A lot of it."
Marcelline felt his pain like a cold wind across her chest.
"But I can't tell you whose… or how. I just can't. I don't want you to be scared of me."
Marcelline shook her head softly, even though he couldn't see.
"I could never be scared of you."
Aiden's breath broke into another quiet sob.
---
As Aiden cried, Marcelline closed her eyes — and something strange washed over her.
A scent.
A feeling.
A pulse.
Not physical.
Something deeper.
Something chilling.
She could sense something clinging to his emotions — a residual darkness, like ashes from a burnt nightmare.
A faint trace of a malevolent presence…
Not on him.
Not in him.
But around him.
Just a whisper of a shadow.
Like Aiden had stood too close to something evil…
Something not human.
Marcelline's heart tightened.
"Aiden…" she whispered carefully, voice steady but alert,
"whatever you went through… it wasn't your fault. You didn't imagine it."
Aiden's breath stopped.
He felt exposed.
Seen.
"H-how do you… know?" he whispered.
Marcelline gently placed her hand over her heart.
"Because I can feel… something hurt you," she said softly.
"Something real."
Aiden trembled.
He didn't know why, but hearing that made him cry harder — silent but deep.
Marcelline whispered to him again, in the same tone she used to soothe little Mia:
"I'm here, Aiden.
You're safe.
You're not alone.
Even if you can't tell me everything yet… I'm still here."
Aiden closed his eyes, letting that warmth wash over him.
For the first time since the massacre…
He felt like he could breathe again.
--