Reborn To Escape His Toxic Love

His eyes snapped open.

The air tearing through his throat sounded like a rusted saw blade cutting through bone. Erich's hands clamped down on the bedsheets, his knuckles turning a stark, bloodless white.

He tried to roll over. A violent cramp ripped through the pit of his stomach, burning like battery acid. The sheer force of the pain slammed his spine back against the thin mattress.

He gasped for air. His lungs expanded, pulling in the scent of cheap pine air freshener and rotting floorboards.

This wasn't Malibu. There was no crisp ocean breeze. No scent of Erik's expensive cedarwood cologne.

Heavy, frantic footsteps thudded in the hallway.

Erich's pupils dilated. His body reacted before his brain could process the movement, curling into a tight, defensive ball. His shoulders hiked up to his ears. He braced himself for the blow. He thought it was Erik Patton coming to punish him again.

The flimsy wooden door flew open, slamming against the wall.

A middle-aged woman with disheveled hair and swollen, red-rimmed eyes rushed into the room. A glass of water slipped from her trembling hands, shattering onto the faded carpet.

She let out a guttural sob. "Oh, God!"

Brenda threw herself at the bed. She didn't hesitate. She wrapped her arms around Erich's rigid body, pulling him into a crushing, desperate hug.

The sudden physical contact sent a violent shockwave through Erich's nervous system. The trauma of being forcefully held down, of being touched against his will, ignited in his veins. He started shaking uncontrollably.

He raised his weak, trembling arms, shoving at her chest with everything he had.

A young girl appeared in the doorway. She wore a frayed denim jacket. Keyla crossed her arms tightly over her chest and bit down hard on her lower lip. Her eyes were wide with panic, but her voice dripped with forced sarcasm.

"Look who finally decided to wake up."

Erich's cracked lips parted. He wanted to scream at them. He wanted to demand who they were and where Erik was. But the words died in his throat, replaced by a fit of coughing that felt like his ribs were splintering.

Brenda released him, her face pale with terror. She spun around to face the girl.

"Keyla! Go to the kitchen and get him some warm water. Now!"

Keyla uncrossed her arms and vanished down the hall.

Brenda turned back, her hands hovering uselessly in the air. Erich didn't look at her. He lowered his chin, staring at the hands he had just used to push her away.

They weren't his hands.

These fingers were pale, bony, and completely devoid of the cigarette burns Erik had left on his knuckles.

His heart skipped a beat. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead. He ripped the heavy blanket off his legs, staring down at the emaciated thighs hidden beneath the cheap hospital-grade sweatpants.

This was not his body.

Keyla stomped back into the room. She held a bright blue plastic mug. She shoved