Rhys' POV
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I was awake, sitting at the edge of the bed Feyre and I were sharing, looking at my hands, when I felt the bed move. I turned around to find my beautiful mate staring at me; now crawling towards me.

She took my face in her hands. "What's wrong?" She questioned.

"I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help you with this or help you in general. I'm scared you think that i'll end up failing you when i'm your Mate. I mean that should count for something right?" I confessed.

"But Rhys-" I cut her off.

"No don't you do that to me. I did fail you. I couldn't save you, our son. By the Cauldron, I couldn't even save Mor.

"My sweet, beautiful, mate. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you when you needed it." I told her.

Feyre started tearing up.

"Can I show you everything that happened?" She asked me softly.

"Of course, my love. Without a doubt." I whispered back.

Over the next hour or so, Feyre showed me everything she'd endured, the nightmares that plagued her dreams everyday, the abuse she'd suffered. I was awful and it just made me angrier and sadder.

After that we just sat togther, on our bed, me holding her and whispering in her ear how much I loved her. Within the hour, Feyre was asleep on my chest, sleeping soundlessly. I slowly got up carefully laying her back down on the pillows that were strewn across the head of the bed. I left a note on the dresser detailing where I'd be when she woke up.

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Feyre's POV

I woke up on a dusty, wooden table, in the middle of a dark room. There were bounds on my wrists and ankles, making it impractical to move my body. I jerked my body but they held firm. I tried to scream but the gag in my mouth prevented from making more than a gasp escaping my mouth. Panic ensued my mind and my body and I started struggling.

A slow chuckle came from the somewhere in the room. Eric appeared out of the the corner of my vision and stroked my mair out of my eyes.

"Oh my sweet Feyre." He sighed.

I continued to struggle against but he grabbed me by my hair and slammed my head against the table. A sharp pain spread throughout the back of my head. I groaned in pain, and he leaned close to my ear.

"I'm never going to let you out of my sight. Ever again." He smirked and then stabbed me in the stomach. Seven different times.

Blood poured out of my mouth as I struggled to breathe. The air just wasn't going down and terror flashed throughout my body. Eric just gave me a pitiful look before brushing my hair down.

"Shhhh." He said. "It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay." He repeated.

The air wasn't coming and I knew I was losing too much blood. I looked into his eyes one last time before I was consumed by darkness.

I sat up real quickly, covered in sweat, Rhys' shirt glued to my chest. I don't remember changing into it so Rhys must have done it after I fell asleep. I heard a rustling from the corner of my room and I turned around quickly, terrified. I looked to see Az leaning against the door to the bathroom.

"Azriel," I breathed. "What are you doing here?"

"You were screaming. Rhys isn't here at the moment and he got the feeling through the bond that something was off so he asked me to check in on you. I walked in on you thrashing and screaming bloody murder in your bed. I was going to wake you but you did that on your own." He said calmly.

He waslked over and sat on the bed next to me. For once he did something that I never would have thought: He hugged me. He wrapped his arms tightly around my body and held on.

He sat there while I cried, talked about my nightmare and the traumatic events of the past few weeks and then cried some more. He talked to me and just listened.

After awhile, Az left.

I stayed in my room for the rest of the day.

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Over the next few days, Rhys shirked his responsibilities to take care and wastch over me. Making sure I ate, left the house, if only for going to the garden. Anything to make sure I wouldn't spiral or go stir crazy from just sitting and waiting for the time to pass.

Over the next few days I realized something very important: life is going to kick me in the stomach, knock me down, wait for me to get back up just so it can knock the wind out of me all over again. But sometimes getting the wind knocked out of me is the only way to remind my lungs of how much they love the taste of air.

After the events of the last fews days, I've also come to the realization that everyday from now on will be an uphill battle. Some days I won't win; Some days I will. But I know for a fact it won't get any easier,