For the Broken

1 🔴 Darkness

Two Months Later

Nobody ever bothered to mention that the summer rains were worse than the harsh winter storms up high in the Bellique mountains. But Sera couldn't muster up irritation for it, not when rain was one of the few things that brought her a semblance of peace.

Peace. It was just a word for most people, but for Sera, it was the entire world. It was all she craved and yearned for, but couldn't attain. She was trapped in a cycle of agonizing torment, spiraling further with each repetition.

She remained in the corner of the living room, wrapped in an old quilted blanket that concealed her form, leaving only her face visible. The cup of tea Lucky had prepared for her sat cold on the side table, untouched for hours.

The living room curtains were drawn, shrouding everything in darkness. Sera made it her mission to immerse herself in that darkness, shutting out even the tiniest ray of summer sunlight. Not a single sunbeam infiltrated the room, and she didn't bother lighting a candle to alleviate the obscurity.

The flames she had once embraced were now beyond her reach. She had extinguished that fire within her some time ago, shortly after she—

It didn't matter. Those events were months past, but for Sera, the faces she had scarred and the lives she had consumed still paraded through her dreams. Even the serenity of sleep offered her no solace.

Sleep was a stranger to her. Countless times she'd awoken drenched in cold sweat, rushing to the bathroom to purge the day's sustenance. Osiris was always there, holding her hair back, a comforting presence, but it changed nothing.

No nightmares, no comfort from her mate could wash away the blood she had shed. Nothing could undo the lives she had taken.

Osiris was aware of this, and if he didn't find a way to alleviate her mental anguish, he feared losing her altogether. But his options were limited.

He had attempted conversation, only to be met with her refusal to speak. It was a constant reminder of her actions. He'd suggested going for a run, but she couldn't fathom shifting into the creature that had obliterated lives in an instant. He hadn't given up. He'd even tried persuading her to take out her frustration on him, hoping it would chip away at the mental barriers she had erected. Yet, Sera remained entrenched in that cabin, impervious to his every attempt to coax her outside.

Laughter and the slam of the front door broke the cabin's deathly silence. The voices felt like they were shouting, a harsh contrast to the usual quiet.

"That's why I told you not to finish the whole bottle. It's not regular wine." The voices were as familiar as her own thoughts—Desmond and Osiris had returned home from whatever escapade they'd been on.

She hadn't inquired about their activities. Shame and guilt had stolen her voice in recent weeks, growing stronger by the day.

Desmond's irritated growl filled the room as he closed the door. "Yeah, well, you didn't have to leave me in the tub all night."

"You fell asleep in the shower, you drunk idiot. I'm sorry you're my brother and all, but I'm not hauling a naked grown man out of the shower. Consider yourself lucky I turned off the water after checking on you." Osiris sent a mischievous smile his brother's way. "Didn't want you drowning."

Desmond shoved Osiris playfully in the chest as he moved toward the living room. "Am I supposed to be grateful?"

Unbeknownst to him, the bundled figure in the corner had Osiris' full attention. His grin faded into concern. His gaze conveyed so much, pleading for a connection.

She assessed the parts of Sera visible from her cocooned position, peering out from under the quilt.

Desmond moved to the windows and flung the curtains open. The rain had ceased, revealing partly cloudy skies and a blazing sun. It was as if the sun had been forced to withhold its brilliance while the rain poured, only to burst forth now, brighter than anything she'd seen.

"Damn, I've been living in a cave," he exclaimed, a proud smirk on his face.

"Des," Osiris hissed, glancing from his brother to Sera, still sitting in the corner.

Her face remained buried in the quilt. She had been in the dark for so long that the sudden flood of sunlight was blinding, even after Desmond had closed the curtains.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit, fuck." Desmond scrambled to pull the curtains shut again, plunging the room into shadow. "I'm so sorry, Sera. I... I didn't realize you were there."

She raised her head, squinting as if traces of the sun still lingered. They didn't.

"I'm sorry," Desmond repeated, remorse heavy in his voice.

She stood, clutching the quilt under her chin, a book in her hand. She moved past Desmond without acknowledging him, determined to exit the room.

The room was too crowded now. Someone was bound to initiate a conversation, and she couldn't summon the energy to engage. She was beginning to question if she ever would again.

She was almost out the door, but an arm slid under the quilt, wrapping around her waist, stopping her in her tracks. She closed her eyes, finding solace in his touch, if only on the surface. This was the level of comfort she permitted—she couldn't bring herself to sever it.

Him.

Osiris gently lifted her chin, trying to gauge if she was okay. He wanted to peer into her eyes, those eyes that spoke volumes, even when closed.

She shook her head.

"Please," he entreated, his voice soothing, coaxing her from the fortress she'd built around herself.

She shook her head again.

"Please," he repeated, the defeat evident in his voice. "I just want to see you. I want to see those beautiful eyes. I haven't seen them today."

She relented, gradually opening her eyes, revealing honey-gold irises. There were no flames in them, but they were far from ordinary. They were the eyes he had fallen in love with, now brimming with grief.

Heartbreaking grief.

The kind of grief that could consume a person. He would do anything to alleviate her pain.

As he looked at her, he realized he would do everything in his power to erase the empty look from her eyes.

He tried relentlessly to find a solution, to find a way to help her, but the textbooks on mental health offered nothing. He'd exhausted all known options, yet she remained in that chair every day, wrapped tightly in the same quilt, embracing the darkness.

Osiris couldn't help but think she wished the shadows would swallow her whole.

Sera pulled away from his touch, his gaze too intense for her to bear. She would cave if she stayed any longer.

Osiris didn't stop her as she ascended the stairs, but just before she disappeared, he asked, "Did you eat today?"

She halted but didn't turn around. She could picture him at the base of the stairs, arms crossed, brow arched.

She refrained from retorting, though she felt the impulse. Instead, she continued up the stairs, shutting the door behind her, and dropping the quilt.

Frustration surged through her, and she hurled her book at the wall. Why couldn't they all just leave her alone?