THIRTY-THREE
N ot once did I think this would happen.
Not once did it ever cross my mind that she would go that far.
I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve recognized the look in her eyes. She was… tired. She was exhausted. All the fighting, all the killing, and all the competition to prove that she’s on top—it exhausted her mind and soul. She knew that I’d save her. She knew that I was going to shoot him.
But she still chose to slit her throat against that blade.
The empty look, the dead eyes—it’s all I see whenever I look at her.
Noelle is alive.
But Noelle is also dead.
She’s in the hospital.
The wounds on her face aren’t severe. The shades of purple and blue started fading, and the doctors said her face would go back to normal with minimal scarring. Her throat, however, is still wrapped in gauze and wound dressings. It’s tied around her neck.
The worst was when they took off her clothes. Her chest and legs were covered in burn marks. There was barely an inch of skin that wasn’t burned. And they think it came from being electrocuted.
The motherfucker electrocuted her. He fucking tortured her. And I wasn’t there to prevent it from happening. I didn’t get to her in time.
It’s been two weeks.
And for the past two weeks, Noelle hasn’t been the same.
Her nurses tend to her like she’s the queen, yet she doesn’t even spare them a glance. She’s constantly looking out of the window, the dull look in her eyes still there. She’s in a trance and doesn’t want to get herself out of it.
More often than not, she doesn’t even realize that someone is in the room with her. She’s barely blinking, and they have to feed her and give her water, otherwise she doesn’t take it by herself.
A psychiatrist visits her four times a week. It’s the best one in the country. He says to be patient with her because she’s suffered through enough trauma to keep a person scarred for the rest of their lives. It’s PTSD.
Noelle shut herself off completely.
The only time I leave her side is when she’s asleep. I place a monitor in her room and the moment she wakes up, I’m right back next to her. I hold her hand, brush her hair, and talk to her.
But she doesn’t even notice that I’m there.
Kalina is inconsolable. She’s crying, begging, and trying her best to snap Noelle out of the trance. It’s not working. She caged herself, and no one will be able to reach her until she unlocks the door.
My voice doesn’t reach her.
My pleas don’t phase her.
And it’s killing me.
Ray and Niko are a different story. They’re looking for Dylan, day and night. They’re finding every person who worked with him, killing them, and making an example out of them. Henrick is helping, too.
They think Dylan escaped.
He did not.
Lyla transferred him to a secure location where Cecilia patched him up. He’s been there all this time, recovering. I have big plans for him. Now that there isn’t a way for him to escape, I’m in no rush.
He’s on an island with twenty people watching him at all times. Lyla is monitoring the entire thing and checking in with my regularly. I shot his chest, but it wasn’t fatal. He’ll live.
He’ll live until I decide otherwise.
The only time Noelle showed any emotion was when I mistakenly mentioned his name. She started screaming, scratching her face, and hitting every nurse that approached her. She was sedated, and no one has dared to utter his name ever since.
I fucking hate the motherfucker with every fiber of my being for doing that to my Noelle.
He broke her, and I don’t know how to glue the broken pieces together.
With a deep breath and a bouquet of lilies in my hand, I knock on the door. One of the nurses opens it with a smile, steps aside, and allows me to come in.
“Hudson,” the nurse calls. “You can give me the flowers. I’ll find them a good spot.”
“Thank you.” I nod and give her the flowers. “Any improvements? Anything I need to know?”
A sad smile forms on her lips as she shakes her head. “Sadly, no. She ate a little more than usual, but that’s it. She’s still not speaking.”
The doctor says that her vocal cords were affected, but it will heal in time. However, the fact that she is refusing to speak is entirely her choice. The veil of darkness is something she’s covering herself with, unwilling to let go.
“Did Dr. Mallory visit?”
She nods. “He says that she needs constant surveillance. Once she’s discharged, he’s suggesting you put her in the psychiatric ward for a while.”
“Thank you.”
She nods, puts the flowers in a vase with fresh water, and leaves. The door closes behind her, and I step further inside, pulling a chair from the side and taking a seat next to Noelle.
She’s sitting up, leaning against the bed frame. Her eyes don’t move when I get close to her. She continues to stare into the void. She blinks only twice. If I didn’t see her chest moving, I would’ve thought she was dead.
I’m so close to her, yet she’s so far away.
I take her hand in mine, her cold touch making my heart burst over and over again. Over the last two weeks, I’ve continuously taken care of her body. Her hands are dry, despite the weather becoming warmer. No matter how many things I do to bring back the moisture, it’s not working.
“Hi, baby,” I whisper, trying not to spook her. “I’m here.”
Softly, I brush away the hair from her face, and she doesn’t even flinch. She sighs, and that’s the most I’ll get from her today. Although she’s not rejecting anyone’s touches, she’s not leaning into me anymore.
It’s all my fault.
And the guilt is eating me alive.
“I’m not sure if you can hear me,” I say, my chest squeezing. “But you don’t have to talk. In fact, I never have to hear you speak again. But please, just look at me, baby. Show me that you’re in there, somewhere. Please.”
I’m not above begging, not when it comes to her. I’ll gladly beg on my knees if it means a part of Noelle returning to me. I’ll do anything it takes to have her pull out of the shell.
I take her hand and bring it to my lips, placing a lingering kiss on the back of it. My own hands start trembling. Half of it is pure fury that this happened, the other half is sorrow. I want to believe that one day, sooner or later, Noelle will come back.
She needs to believe it, too.
I only wish she could hear me.
“The weather is beautiful today,” I say with a little laugh. “Once your bandages come off, I’ll be able to take you for a walk. I know your favorite season is spring because it’s not too hot and not too cold. It’s just perfect for your favorite outfits, and you’re still able to have iced coffee with a splash of vodka.”
Noelle doesn’t react.
I know she won’t react, no matter what I say, yet the disappointment and guilt still appear whenever she remains silent. The deadly silence is killing me, and I no longer know what to do.
I know all about her. I know her favorite movie, drink, food, and her favorite piece of jewelry. I know that she hates seafood, with the exception of sushi. She can eat a mountain of sushi, but only from the restaurant two streets from her penthouse.
Noelle loves cats, but she has no time to care for one, which is why all the strays around her home are always lingering around. She feeds them, pets them, and even sneaks them in when the weather is bad so they don’t have to sleep outside.
She absolutely despises the fact that her brother and mine were a thing. But no matter how much she claims she hates Niko, he’s her second favorite person. The first one is her little sister.
And even if she never admits it, she loves me.
I don’t need to hear the words to see it and feel it. I don’t know when the switch happened for her—fuck, I’m even not sure when it happened for me—but one thing is for certain. We fell in love when we shouldn’t have.
It’s what caused all of this mess.
I caused all of this mess.
“Noelle.” I speak once more, the spark of hope still lingering in my chest. “I’m sorry for failing you.” I bring her hand even closer to my lips, the fear of losing her entirely shattering my mind. “I’m so sorry that I was late, baby.”
A minute passes.
Then two minutes pass.
And slowly, Noelle turns to me.
For the next while, she’s looking straight through me, her head cocking to the side. She releases another deep sigh, then she blinks. A little flicker of light flashes behind her brown eyes, and her lips part.
“Hudson,” she croaks out.
Her raspy voice sends a jolt of happiness through my body. It takes me a moment to process it because although I heard it clearly, I’m still in doubt. Noelle calls my name in a throaty tone.
She clears her throat slightly, wincing.
“Shh,” I say. “Don’t speak.”
Noelle lightly shakes her head.
“No, let me,” she whispers, wincing at the sound of her voice. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it for you to see. But you know, when he said that I was aware that Franco had nothing to do with my aunt’s death… I saw your face. You were looking at me exactly the way you were looking at me before all of this started; exactly the same as the night I killed him. I saw the hatred, and it’s what I deserve.”
I freeze at her words.
“See? There it is again. And I just want you to know that I’m sorry. But it’s not for killing him. It’s for dragging you into this mess with me. Because if you were to ask me if I would kill Franco again, knowing in advance that he didn’t kill Luciella… I would say yes.”
“No, Noelle.” I quickly try to retract. “I don’t blame you.”
And that’s the hard, cold truth.
Henrick found all the evidence connecting Franco to Dylan. The disappointment and the anger in my father were unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed. Leah reacted similarly. Both of them are so ashamed of their son’s actions that they completely stopped mentioning him.
As for me, although we never saw eye to eye, until that moment, he was still my brother. That sentiment left the moment we found Dylan’s words to be true. He’s lucky that it was Noelle who killed him. Otherwise I would’ve made him regret the day he was born.
Noelle smiles, but the smile is the most forced I’ve seen. It’s filled with sadness, sorrow, and anger.
“You should.” She chuckles, then winces. Her throat must hurt. “I blame myself. And starting today, stop coming here. You’ll be sucked into this fucked-up mentality with me, and you’re not prepared for it. No one is. All I want is to be left alone, please.”
“No, no.” I raise my voice slightly. “Don’t you dare say that, Noelle.”
But it’s too late.
I see the light vanish from her eyes. It happens too quickly, but she dissociates herself from reality quickly and returns to her doll-like state.
“Noelle, please, don’t do this.”
Noelle doesn’t hear me. The blank stare returns, and it’s as if it never left. Her blank eyes stare through me, lips slightly parted. Her body goes limp, and the nightmare starts repeating itself again.
It’s the last time I hear Noelle speak.