FEARS FROM THE PAST

Here’s your rewritten Chapter 10 with deeper emotional intensity, richer details, and the same word count:

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CHAPTER 10

FEARS FROM THE PAST

Elena ran like a woman being hunted, her breath ragged, her body trembling with a terror so visceral it clawed at her from the inside out. This wasn’t the kind of fear that came from paranoia or uncertainty. No—this was raw, consuming, and absolute.

I had seen Elena guarded before, had watched her build walls so high no one dared to climb them. She was the type to push people away, to wield indifference like a blade. But this? This was different.

This wasn’t anger.

This wasn’t defiance.

This wasn’t even desperation.

This was fear in its purest, most primal form.

And I had no idea why.

I stood frozen, my mind racing through possibilities. What—or who—was she running from? Had someone hurt her? Had someone threatened her? The frantic way her eyes darted over her shoulder, the way her entire body shook as if something monstrous was right behind her, ready to strike—it sent a chill through me.

I had been on my way to the club that night, looking for an escape. After everything—with Emily, with Elena—I needed to drown myself in music, alcohol, and meaningless distractions. I thought losing myself in a crowd of strangers would silence the chaos in my mind.

But then Elena crashed into me.

Literally.

She slammed into my chest with such force that I stumbled back, barely managing to stay on my feet. My arms instinctively wrapped around her, steadying her before she could fall. She felt fragile, so impossibly fragile, trembling violently even as she fought—against me, against whatever invisible nightmare had sent her into flight.

“Elena,” I demanded, my voice sharp. “What the hell is going on?”

She shook her head, unable to speak. Her breathing was erratic, her fingers gripping my shirt like a lifeline, as if letting go would send her spiraling into oblivion. But even that small connection wasn’t enough to ground her.

“I… I can’t—” she gasped, her knees buckling beneath her.

I caught her before she collapsed, holding her tightly against me. My pulse pounded in my ears. Elena had always been strong—too stubborn to show weakness, too proud to ask for help.

But right now?

Right now, she wasn’t the untouchable woman who held herself above everyone else. She was terrified. And whatever had done this to her—I wasn’t about to ignore it.

She didn’t get a choice.

Keeping a firm grip on her, I led her to my car. She didn’t resist. She didn’t argue. That, more than anything, told me how bad this was.

The ride back to my apartment was eerily silent.

The city outside buzzed with life, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside the girl beside me. I stole glances at her, searching for answers in the way she clenched her fists, the way her gaze remained locked on the passing streetlights. Her fingers curled so tightly into the fabric of her dress that her knuckles turned white.

She wasn’t going to talk.

Not yet.

But I would get my answers.

When we arrived, I barely had time to unlock the door before she bolted inside.

Then, I heard it.

The unmistakable sound of retching.

For a second, I hesitated. Then I followed.

I found her collapsed on the bathroom floor, hunched over the toilet, her body heaving violently as she threw up everything she had left in her. Over and over again. Until there was nothing left but dry heaving and exhaustion.

It was painful to watch.

Worse to know I couldn’t fix it.

Without thinking, I crouched beside her, gently gathering her tangled hair in my hands. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t push me away. She was too drained, too lost in whatever nightmare had its claws in her.

Time blurred. I didn’t know how long I stayed there, just holding her hair, listening to her breathe, until her body finally gave out—leaving her slumped forward, barely conscious.

I exhaled sharply.

I made a decision.

Carefully, I cleaned her up, moving with the kind of caution I knew she would appreciate later. I didn’t cross any boundaries. I made sure she was warm. Safe. That she still had some semblance of control over herself. She let me guide her to the bed without a fight.

That, more than anything, unsettled me.

Elena never let anyone take care of her.

I sat beside her, watching as she curled into herself beneath the covers. Even in sleep, she was restless—soft whimpers slipping past her lips, her hands clenching the blanket like she was still fighting something in her dreams.

I wanted to wake her.

I wanted answers.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I stayed.

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Morning came too soon.

I hadn’t slept. I had been too busy watching over her. But I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was making sure Elena was okay.

She needed rest, so I let her sleep as long as she could. I even made breakfast—something warm, something to help her regain her strength.

But by the time I returned to the bedroom—

She was gone.

She ran. Again.

“Elena, wait—”

She didn’t stop.

I stood there, gripping the plate in my hands, frustration bubbling in my chest.

Why was she running?

What was she so afraid of?

I wasn’t letting this go.

I would find out what the hell was happening, whether she wanted me to or not.

Just as I was lost in thought, my phone rang.

I sighed, already dreading the conversation before I even checked the screen.

My father.

I hesitated, then answered.

“What did I hear that you did, Ryan?” His voice was sharp, laced with barely restrained fury.

I clenched my jaw. I knew exactly what he was talking about. Emily. She must have said something.

“Dad, it’s not what you think—”

“I don’t want excuses,” he snapped. “Get to the house. Now.”

The line went dead before I could argue.

I exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over my face.

Everything was spiraling out of control.

Elena was acting like she was being hunted.

My father was furious over something I hadn’t even done.

And Emily… I didn’t know what to think about her anymore.

Then, just as I turned to leave—

Something caught my eye.

A small piece of paper.

Lying on the floor.

It must have fallen from Elena’s dress when she ran out. I had washed it the night before and hadn’t noticed it. The paper was soaked, the edges torn, the ink smudged.

I bent down, carefully picking it up. My brows furrowed as I read the jagged handwriting.

At first, I couldn’t make sense of it.

But then—

“Stay away from Ryan. He is mine.”

A chill ran down my spine.

Who had given this to Elena?

Was this why she had been so afraid?

I flipped the note over, searching for more, but the back was blank. My mind raced.

A prank?

A warning?

A threat?

Whoever sent this wanted to scare her.

And it worked.

Then I heard it.

Voices out the front door

I turned to the front window. A group of students stood at the bottom of my driveway.

My classmates.

Their eyes widened in shock. Some whispered. Others raised their phones—capturing the moment. Elena leaving my house.

A scandal unfolding in real time.

And then, just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, one of them spoke.

“Ms. Harper?”

It was Emily. Her voice was cold, triumphant.

“How come you spent the night at your student’s house?”

All eyes turned to her, I could see how weak she was. Tired, drenched as tears rolled down her eyes.

Emily had forced my hand. She had already set the trap.

But I wasn’t about to walk into it.

I clenched my jaw and took a slow breath before speaking as I walked to open the door.

“Get off my property.” I screamed on top of my voice and everyone turned to stare at me.