The world came back to me in fragments—dim lights, muffled beeping, the sharp sterile scent of antiseptics lingering in the air. My eyelids fluttered open slowly, resisting the urge to fall back into darkness. Everything hurt, like my body had been run over by a train and then glued back together with uncertainty and trembling bones.
I was covered in bandages. Not just a few—my arms, legs, chest… wrapped like I was porcelain, like I might fall apart again at the slightest touch. Only my face remained untouched. And maybe my heart. Barely.
I turned my head slightly, and that's when I saw him.
Liam.
He stood near the window, one hand resting against the glass, staring out at the night. The moonlight cast a pale glow across his sharp features, and for a moment, he looked more like a ghost than a boy. His posture was stiff, shoulders high with guilt or grief—I couldn't tell. Maybe both.
But when I saw him, a strange sense of calm washed over me. He was here. He stayed.
I tried to speak, but my voice was cracked and weak.
"L-Liam…"
He turned around so quickly, as if he'd been waiting for that exact moment. And for the first time in a long time, I saw something flicker across his face that shattered me.
Hope.
He walked toward me, slow and careful, like I was a fragile thing he didn't want to break again. But behind his steady eyes was something else—something wild and barely held back. Excitement. Relief. Guilt.
I could see right through it.
He knelt beside me, gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, and then, without warning, leaned forward and kissed my forehead.
"You'll win, Emma," he whispered, voice trembling. "Just try. That's all you need to do."
I blinked at him, unable to speak, unsure how to respond. And then… a single tear slipped down his cheek. The boy who never cried. The boy who looked like a mafia prince, cold and strong and unshakable.
Liam cried.
He stared at me like I was slipping through his fingers again, his hand tightening around mine as if he could tether me here by sheer will.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I couldn't help you. I proved I'm not worthy of your love. You were screaming inside and I—I couldn't reach you. I wasn't enough."
I shook my head slowly. My throat was raw, my lips barely moving, but I forced the words out anyway.
"I-it's… o-o…kkkaa…yyy…"
He smiled through the sadness, brushing his thumb gently against my cheek.
And then… we talked.
Not about powers or ghosts or Amelia. Not even about Peter. Just us. Me and Liam. He sat beside me, our hands loosely intertwined, and for the first time, he didn't try to be cool or composed. He told me about how he hadn't left the hospital once. How he'd sat by my bed every night, waiting, hoping. He even confessed he'd prayed—something he'd never done before.
"Guess miracles exist," he said with a crooked grin. "You woke up."
"Maybe God didn't want me haunting the afterlife," I whispered with a laugh, and he chuckled softly.
We talked until the sky outside began to lighten, a soft blue creeping in through the windows. Somewhere in between, a nurse came in with a tray of soup, smiling when she saw me awake. Liam took the tray without a word and began feeding me gently, like I was something precious.
It was around that time I heard voices outside the door.
Peter. Chloe. Edward.
I recognized them instantly. And maybe it was the IV fluids or the medicine dulling my senses, but their voices felt like music to my ears.
But I also heard the tension.
"Can someone please tell me what's going on?" Edward's voice was sharp, confused. "You guys keep saying everything's fine but that wasn't normal. I saw her eyes, Peter. That was not a seizure or a breakdown—that was something else. Something dark."
There was a pause, and then Peter's low voice replied, "Let's talk outside. You deserve the truth."
Their footsteps moved away.
The door creaked open a minute later, and Chloe stepped in.
She froze.
Her eyes went wide the second they landed on me, and her mouth fell open. She dropped her bag right there on the floor.
"Oh my God," she gasped, hands flying up to her mouth. "You're awake?! Emma!"
Before I could say anything, she was by my side, hugging me tightly—carefully, but still with her whole heart. Her tears fell freely, soaking into my hospital gown as she sobbed against me.
"I thought you were gone," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Nine days, Emma. Nine whole days. You weren't waking up, and Peter wouldn't sleep, and Liam—he lost it. You scared the hell out of us."
I gave her the weakest smirk I could manage and rasped, "You're not wearing makeup. Are you okay?"
She pulled back with a snort, laughing through her tears. "Oh my God, you witch. Only you would wake up from a near-death experience and insult me."
"I missed you," I whispered.
She nodded, wiping her face with her sleeve. "I missed you more."
Liam got up to give her space, and she climbed into the chair next to me, gripping my hand like it was her lifeline. And in that moment, I realized how lucky I was to have her. To have them.
Minutes later, Peter returned, his face tight with emotion. Edward followed, eyes still wide and confused, but calmer now.
When Peter saw me, he froze. Like seeing me awake broke something inside him. His lips parted like he wanted to say a hundred things, but nothing came out.
I gave him a tired smile. "Hey."
He rushed to my side, dropping to his knees and pressing his forehead to my hand.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should've been here. I should've stopped it."
"You were there," I replied. "You always are."
He looked up, eyes glistening. "You scared me."
"I scared myself," I admitted.
Edward cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um… okay, I'm still new here, but what the hell is happening? Like, demons? Ghosts? Telekinesis? I need a label, people."
Chloe glanced at me and then back at him. "Welcome to our mess."
Liam leaned against the wall with a smirk. "You'll get used to it."
"Doubt it," Edward muttered. "Seriously, someone explain how Emma bled from her eyes and then spoke in a dead woman's voice. Is that a thing now?!"
I tried to smile. "It's… complicated."
Peter sighed. "We'll tell him everything already told half of it though. But first…" He looked at me. "You need to rest."
But I shook my head. "No. No more secrets."
I looked at all of them—Peter, Chloe, Liam, and Edward—and said, "If we're going to survive this… we do it together. All of us."
And for the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn't scared of what came next.
Because I had them.