Amelia
The pain that once tore through me, that burned itself into my heart, my soul, into every part of me, is now just a distant throb.
My body floats, weightless, while thoughts drift in and out, leaving only fragments behind.
My head, my mind, are veiled behind a dense white fog.
Again and again, something flares up, reaching for me, trying to cling, but each time I slip away, drifting beyond its grasp.
It feels dark, threatening, even here, in the serene stillness of my quiet, weightless bubble.
Voices keep reaching my ears, sometimes so close, sometimes infinitely far away, and I smell him, feel that he is here. I feel the safety he radiates.
“Come on, Goldilocks, open those beautiful eyes for me. Please.” There it is again, my favorite voice, and unlike before, I want to respond, I want to open my eyes and look at him.
I’m right here. I can hear you. Can’t you tell?
He sounds so desperate, so scared, but he doesn’t need to be. I’m okay. I think.
Where am I, anyway?
The fog lifts a little, and images flash before me, images I do not want to see.
No. No. No.
Pain. So much pain and fear.
Where is my fog? Where is the bubble?
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
The sound pounds in my ears, syncing with my heartbeat.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Amelia. Hey. DOCTOR! QUICK! SOMETHING’S WRONG.”
Nicolas. That voice belongs to Nicolas, and he sounds panicked.
But he’s right. Something is wrong, because my protective fog is gone, my body is throbbing dully, just like my head, and those images are chasing me.
They are chasing me, and I can’t run. But are they real? Because if they are, it would mean…
NO!
Panic crashes over me. My eyes fly open. I try to breathe, but I can’t. Not properly. I gulp for air, faster and faster, but it’s not enough. Nowhere near enough. Fear coils around my heart, tight and merciless, and I can’t move. I can’t stop it.
Henry. Henry caught me. He beat me.
Gray, worried, fear-filled eyes appear above me, and I see that he’s speaking.
His lips are moving, but I can’t hear him, only a roaring in my ears.
Hands touch my cheeks, his hands. I smell him, feel them, and I stare at him, clinging to his gaze like a drowning woman, and slowly, ever so slowly, his voice breaks through.
Don’t let go. Don’t leave me alone.
“Inhale. Exhale. Come on, Goldilocks. You can do it. Yes, just like that. Inhale. Exhale. Again.”
His voice is like balm, his touch is like balm, and I do as he says, breathing with him as he pulls me, piece by piece, out of the panic attack.
“Good girl. Keep going. I’m here and no one is coming in. Just me and Lizzy. No one else. You’re safe,” he continues, soothing me, and gradually something inside me lets go. My heartbeat slows, my breathing evens out, and I grow unbearably tired.
“Don’t… go,” I whisper softly, then drift back into the darkness.
My mouth is dry as dust, my throat scraped raw like sandpaper. My body feels like dead weight, slow and unresponsive. And that damn beeping is back.
Slowly, I open my eyes, blink, then squeeze them shut again because the brightness blinds me. When I manage to open them again, I find myself staring at a beige ceiling with an elegant lamp hanging down.
Where the hell am I?
I slowly turn my head, stifling a groan as the weight drags it down, sending a dull throb through my skull.
The first thing I realize is that I’m in a hospital. My stomach flips as fragments of memories rise again, and I shove them aside quickly.
The second thing I notice is the dark hair and sleeping face of Nicolas, resting on the pillow beside me. Even asleep, he looks completely worn out.
My hand glides to his cheek, and I gently stroke it. His lips curve into the faintest smile.
Ohhh.
My heart begins to beat faster at this sweet reaction. Unfortunately, it also speeds up the beeping, and Nicolas’s eyes fly open in shock. He pushes himself up, staring at me with panic in his eyes.
“Amelia. What…? Oh fuck, you’re awake!”
His voice is hoarse from sleep. He runs a hand through his hair, staring at me with disbelief in his gray eyes.
“Hi,” I croak and raise my hand, which feels impossibly heavy, like a sack of cement.
“Fuck, babe… I… shit…” His voice falters. Slowly, he reaches out with a trembling hand and places it on my cheek, careful as if I were made of glass.
Despite the pain, I nuzzle into his touch. Tears well up in my eyes because this gesture, the way he’s struggling to hold himself together for me, breaks down every wall I’ve fought to maintain.
My walls finally break.
He’s afraid for me.
He was worried.
He’s here.
“Shhh, babe, don’t cry. I’m here. It’s going to be okay, I promise,” he says, almost begging. He leans down, presses his forehead to mine, and takes a deep breath.
He’s here.
He knows.
And he stayed.
My thoughts and emotions—fear, shame, relief, love—spin wildly, and I can no longer withstand the storm. The tears I tried so desperately to hold back now flow silently down my cheeks.
He is here. Here with me.
His thumb brushes ever so gently over my bruised cheek, then he kisses my forehead and looks at me with such tenderness.
“You really scared the hell out of me, Goldilocks. Do you know that?” His hands still cradle my face, his gaze locked with mine, and I see the fear he had for me.
Immediately, shame floods through every pore of my body, and I close my eyes in defeat.
“I… I’m sorry. He… I…” But Nicolas cuts me off, sharply.
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare apologize for that filthy bastard. None of this, absolutely none of it, is your fault. Nothing! That bastard will pay for what he did to you.” He’s furious, and I can hear the raw, unfiltered rage in his voice, so sharp it could cut through the air.
But it’s not that simple. Not for me. I continue to avoid his gaze, the burning sense of guilt clinging to me like something sticky and suffocating.
“Look at me, Goldilocks. Please.” His fingers gently wrap around my chin, guiding it toward him, leaving me no choice but to meet his eyes, even if it embarrasses me.
Oh God.
There’s a storm in his eyes, a storm not meant for me, yet it still frightens me. His gaze flickers coldly, heavy with a deadly promise. When he sees me flinch, it softens at once.
“Your brother is a monster. A sick man who can’t control his aggression. You did nothing wrong. Nothing. If I ever get my hands on him…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but I see exactly what he means. And my heart leaps. It leaps with joy, because no one has ever defended me like this before. No one has ever stood by me on this.
My mother always said it was my own fault for constantly provoking my father. For my brother, it was always me, always my behavior that triggered him, and after a while, you start to believe it.
“He didn’t know any better…” I mumble, trying to ignore the fresh wave of shame threatening to consume me.
Nicolas’s eyes widen as he realizes what I’m saying. He straightens up, running a hand over his face, overwhelmed.
“Fuck… this can’t be real,” he mutters, then looks at me again.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so damn sorry that your sick, stupid family did this to you.
But it doesn’t excuse what he did. He will pay, Lia.
I promise. Now rest, I’ll go get the doctor and keep Lizzy at bay.
She’ll pounce on you otherwise, but you need… ”
“No. Please let her come in. Please.” I need my best friend. I have to tell her everything myself. Even though I’m sick with fear, knowing she has every right to be angry that I kept this from her, I still need her now.
A smile tugs at his lips at my insistence, and he leans down again, his face close to mine, and my heart nearly bursts.
The butterflies return as he brushes his nose against mine and kisses me so tenderly I have to swallow hard to keep the tears in check.
“Your wish is my command… princess,” he murmurs, rising, and I immediately miss his warmth.
“How long… I mean, since…”
I glance around the room and only now notice how luxurious it is. Probably a special wing for the royal family.
Nicolas’s expression darkens as he replies, “Almost four days.”
I swallow hard, because God, four days seems like an eternity. He sees the questions in my eyes, but gently shakes his head.
“Not now. Rest, and when you feel better, we’ll talk.” His posture is firm, unyielding, and I know I won’t get anything more from him for now. And to be honest, I’m not ready to deal with it yet either. So I simply nod, and he quietly leaves the room.
I must have dozed off for a moment, because when I open my eyes again, my best friend is sitting by my bed, watching me with deep concern. Relief is written all over her face when our eyes meet, and she attempts a crooked smile. She fails miserably.
“There you are. You really scared me with your Sleeping Beauty act, you know.” She is trying to lighten the mood, but I can hear the tremble in her voice.
“Come here,” I whisper, patting the spot next to me. She doesn’t need to be asked twice and climbs onto the bed beside me, carefully, so she doesn’t hurt me.
“I was so scared for you, Lia. You… you looked awful. He… oh my God, why didn’t you ever say anything?” There it is, the question that changes everything. My stomach clenches tightly, and the lump in my throat grows heavier.
Lizzy is lying on her side next to me, looking at me, and I close my eyes, defeated.
“I… I was so ashamed. At first, it was just jealousy—back when my father was still alive. Everything felt so different with your family. Your mom… she’s an angel.
And your dad, he… well, at least he’s nothing like mine was.
I never understood why I was never enough, why I was the one being punished when no one else around me was.
Then, when Dad died, when Henry… well, I started to think maybe I deserved it.
And I was ashamed. So ashamed that something like that had happened to me, of all people,” I reply quietly, still not looking at her.
“You know that’s incredibly stupid, right? No one, absolutely no one, deserves violence, abuse, or beatings. Your family is seriously messed up, I hope you see that now.” Lizzy’s angry, I can hear it in her voice. She’s worked up. I turn my head toward her.
“I think I’ve figured that out by now, yeah,” I say dryly, glancing down at myself. I still haven’t fully grasped the extent of my injuries, haven’t even asked, but if I was out for four full days, it must be bad.
“But if it’s any consolation, my family isn’t much better. And I definitely need to revise how you see my father.” She makes a disgusted face, and now she has my full attention.
“What—” But I’m cut off. Again.
“Not now. Lizzy, damn it, I told you to wait,” Nicolas scolds from the doorway, where he’s apparently been standing for a while, watching us.
“What? She has a right to know. Better to rip the bandage off fast than pull it off slowly and painfully.” She sits up and glares at her brother furiously.
“Can someone please tell me what the hell you’re talking about?” I cut in, a little annoyed. I agree with Liz on this point. I’d prefer the truth over any more secrets.
“My father slept with Damien, and a bunch of others too. On the day of the accident, he found out from Richardson, who had been tailing Damien and Phil, that Damien confessed to Phil he’d cheated on him.
So my father asked Richardson to follow you two, to intimidate you a little, distract Phil so he wouldn’t keep digging.
He bribed Richardson to scare you, just a little, and that makes him partly responsible for Phil’s death.
Your brother knew, because Richardson was playing both sides to hurt the royal family, and ta-da, here we are.
” She throws her arms up, but I can see the pain and fury in her eyes.
“That… okay… wait… what?? Maybe that’s a bit too much all at once,” I mutter, trying to sort out my thoughts. I can feel both of them staring at me, but the puzzle pieces are only just starting to fit together in my head.
“Now… now their behavior makes sense. Both of them. Oh my God… holy shit!” I look up, wide-eyed, first at Lizzy, then at Nicolas, because my God, now it all makes sense.
It was cruel—but in a twisted way it made sense.