Perfect Flaws

25. Secrets Unveiled

I'm scared of how safe it is, and how carefree it feels.

It doesn't restrict me.

It doesn't cage me up and throw the key away.

It doesn't have any expectations.

But it isn't familiar.

The only thing I have to do is feel and allow myself to be cared for. Maybe even loved.

Not in a fake way. Or because I'm someone with an important title, but because I'm a person.

And he knew that.

But I didn't.

"Rhea?" I hear, whispered through the door.

I jump in surprise, having no clue someone had come down.

The door cracks open after a rumble.

A lantern enters first, along with Liam. I shield my eyes from the light, blinking.

I see a black duffel bag in his left hand. He sets it down, shutting the door behind him.

"Keep your voice down, nobody knows I'm here," he says softly.

I nod, struggling to be formal.

His attention focuses solely on the bag now. His hands pull out different items.

I see a blanket, a pillow, a water bottle, and a plastic wrapped sandwich.

"You were right," he mumbles, avoiding my eyes as he pushes the items toward me. I look at him, waiting for him to look me in the eyes before I respond.

Slowly, his tired eyes lift to meet mine. He looks used. Like an old toy a child has forgotten about and no longer cares for.

"I know," I breathe.

"I have a question," he requests. I stare at him expectantly. "How did you know... that you could talk to me?"

"You want the truth?"

He nods.

"Your eyes. Your face. What you think or feel, it's clear on your face. Your hesitation in the way you carry yourself and how you speak," I croak, my voice hoarse.

"Oh," he sighs, sitting himself on the floor. He shivers, looking back at me.

I smile, "Not so warm and cozy, huh?"

He lightly snorts, "I guess I should've brought hot chocolate."

I shrug the best I can, "The water is alright."

He sharply sighs, crossing his legs while he grabs a file from the duffel bag. "The evidence."

I take the document, immediately opening it.

The first thing I see is a picture of remains from my parents ship, broken and cracked steel, soaked papers, drenched clothes.

I flip through the photos, stopping immediately on one photograph in particular.

My mom and dad lay down, side by side, and completely dead. A perfect and symmetrical hole sits in the middle of both of their foreheads. Blood of dark crimson trickles down the side to their temples.

Their eyes are open, paralyzingly open, and drained.

Everything in their faces tells me how terrified they were. Forgetting the brave front, the titles, their fortunate life. They were just terrified to lose their life.

Everything in me wants to scream. To run away and crawl in a hole. I want to cry, to let myself express how miserable I feel right now. I want to torture Alexander and Emery. I want them to have the same look in their eyes like my parents.