Royals

Chapter 52

"I'm staying!" I screamed into the phone, not bothering to calm down. "I'm staying. I'm staying. I'm really staying, Lillia!"

"You do realize that it's three o'clock in the morning, right?" Lillia groggily asked, most likely raising her eyebrows.

"Yes, but it's never the wrong time to receive good news!" I shouted, jumping around my room.

"There is," she corrected me, "and it's three a.m."

"Try to contain your enthusiasm," I teased, rolling my eyes.

"If you want excitement, call me tomorrow morning," Lillia spoke, interrupting herself with a yawn. "But not too early."

"Trust me, I will," I grinned.

"Don't stay up forever," Lillia ordered.

"I won't. Good night," I sang, hanging up the phone and tossing it into the muddle of blankets on my bed.

I already woke up Jake, Ashlynn, and Anastasia, screaming the news to them. Opposed to Lillia, they expressed eagerness, but I couldn't blame Lillia for wanting to sleep—she had woken up really early for a shopping spree with her Grandma. I knew she'd be more excited in the morning.

I wasn't tired, but I knew I needed sleep. So, after a while of jumping around in my pajamas, I snuggled into my warm bed and bid myself goodnight.

And, for the first time in a long while, I felt truly happy.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"She looks as if she's alright," whispered an alien voice. "But it isn't always possible to tell from the outside."

"I'm not sure that anything is actually wrong, but she should definitely speak to someone about what has happened," replied my mother from a distance. I slowly opened my eyelids, wincing at the bright light emanating from my ceiling. I shifted my head to the left and was met with a foreign face.

A woman with thick, chocolate skin was staring intently at me with alert, alabaster eyes. A pair of thin, violet glasses were resting on the midpoint of her tiny, button nose, and her thick, coal black hair was pulled into a professional ponytail. I noted her atypically formal apparel: an unadorned, ebony pant suit.

I averted my eyes to my mother, who was standing at the door in a pant suit of her own. She raised her eyebrows at me expectantly, wondering why I hadn't muttered so much as a greeting.

"Who are you?" I slowly asked, dragging my eyes back to the professionally dressed woman. "And why are you watching me sleep?"

"Good morning, Ms. Brazki," greeted the woman, who politely extended her hand to mine. "My name is Dr. Patricia Zaypog, and I have been assigned to be your post-traumatic therapist."

"F-for what?" I stuttered, slightly intimidated. I sat up in my bed, smoothing down my seemingly unruly bedhead. "I haven't been in any traumatic experiences."

"Sweetheart," my mother sighed, shaking her head at my lack of cooperation. What the hell was going on?

"Dad leaving wasn't a traumatic experience; I'm fine, Mom," I drawled, rolling my eyes. "I'm sorry Dr. Zaypog, but this really isn't necessary."

"This isn't only about your father, Emily," my mother insisted, walking towards me. I heard the clicking of her heels against my bedroom floor and sighed inwardly.

"Then what is this about? I'm out of the loop here," I replied with a stifled yawn. What time was it?

"This is about both Olivia and Alexander," my mother sharply responded. Upon hearing their names, my body immediately stiffened.