Everything had happened too fast.

You could barely piece it together — just flashes. Rage, panic, the blur of voices too loud, too sharp. Lights that felt like they pierced your skull. Words that didn’t make sense anymore. The sound of your own heartbeat roaring in your ears like a drum you couldn’t silence.

You didn’t remember sitting down. You didn’t remember the tears. But now you were here. In her arms. Lisa’s.

Her hands anchored you — one at your back, the other gently cradling your head against her shoulder. She didn’t speak. Didn’t ask you to explain. She simply held you like she knew words would only spill everything further out of place.

And then — she hummed.

Soft and slow, right into your ear.

Not a song you could name. Just a melody. Calming. Warm. Steady.

It wasn’t meant to fix anything. Just to be there.

And somehow... that was enough.

The noise faded. Not all at once, but enough for your breath to slow. Enough for your fists to unclench. Enough for your eyes to close — just for a moment — as her hum wrapped around you like a lullaby meant for the part of you that still needed saving.

She kissed your hair once, gently. “I’m not going anywhere.” She stayed, and hummed, and held the pieces until you could start putting them back together.