Patient B-2

Chapter Six: Avalyn

She's not.

 Deep down, she knows I'm right, and she concedes, a smirk playing on her lips as she raises her nose haughtily. "Fine, but it might just end up being a waste of time. Perhaps you should venture forth alone," she suggests, turning on her heel with an exaggerated flourish.

 She strides with feigned superiority, as if the recent ungraceful episode of coughing up blood all over the place didn't just happen. It's a stark contrast, her composed facade belying the recent vulnerability displayed. "And if they're using vampires as party favors, should I handle it solo, or do I have the pleasure of calling you in for backup?" I quip, a hint of sarcasm lacing my word.

 Her stride falters, halted by my unexpected response. It's evident she's not operating at full capacity tonight, and given the recent events, I can hardly fault her. Yet, if we're to function effectively as a team, I need her to be sharp and vigilant at all times.

 "You really think so?" she questions, casting a glance over her shoulder, brows furrowed in confusion.

 "Don't you?" I counter, my tone edged with a hint of exasperation. "After what we witnessed tonight? Besides, you're more familiar with WWA than I am. They're your family, after all."

 "The fuck does that mean?" she snarls, her tone sharp and defensive, clearly offended by my remark.

 I hadn't intended for it to sound as accusatory as she interpreted it, but given my current mood, I decide to push forward, frustration coloring my words. "It means the dark tendencies run in your family, Ms. Wellington," I retort, refusing to back down. "So, who better to understand how those monsters operate than someone who shares their blood?"

 Her anger swiftly gives way to hurt, her frown deepening as her lips downturn. "How could you say that to me after I told you what I went through?"

 At that moment, I realize the weight of my words, the unintended blow struck directly at the heart of her past trauma. It wasn't my intention to dredge up painful memories, nor to associate her with the dark deeds of her family. She's far removed from the sinister legacy they bear, and I know better than anyone that she would never descend to their level. Shame washes over me as I clench my jaw, unable to meet her gaze, knowing I've wounded her deeply with my thoughtless words.

 "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way," I offer, my voice tinged with genuine regret.

 "Really?" she laughs bitterly, the sound lacking any trace of amusement. "Get off your high horse, Avalyn. You're no better than me. I did what I did to survive—"

 "You killed Sophie to survive?" I interrupt, turning to face her, incredulity coloring my words.

 She clicks her tongue, shaking her head. "No, that was just for fun."

 "You may not be as twisted as the rest of your family, but you're still tainted, Idalia," I retort sharply.

 "I should have never confided in you," she scoffs, turning her back on me and retreating to her room.

 As I watch her retreat, a wave of conflicting emotions washes over me. Knowing her story, and understanding her pain, makes it difficult to maintain the resentment I so desperately want to feel. Yet, I struggle with separating someone's past traumas from their present actions. It's a pattern I've fallen into before, trying to rationalize behavior based on the hurt inflicted upon them. I've done it with Wrath, and now, I find myself grappling with the same dilemma when it comes to Idalia. It's a constant battle between the desire to condemn her and the urge to empathize with her plight.

 Dr. King insists that I have every right to feel anger towards her, regardless of her past experiences. Yet, each time frustration wells up inside me, I find myself not just addressing her present actions, but also the shadow of the person she once was. Deep down, I still hold onto the belief that beneath the layers of pain and trauma, there existed a kinder, gentler version of her. It's a burden I place upon myself, this incessant need to reconcile her past with her present, and it only adds to the complexity of my emotions.

 She's right though— I do need to get off my high horse. I've been quick to judge her inability to think clearly, all the while failing to recognize my own clouded judgment. Idalia's actions have caused pain, not just to me but to those I hold dear. Yet, in my haste to condemn her, I've overlooked my own faults.

 I've inflicted hurt upon others as well, whether intentionally or not. In that realization, I'm forced to confront the uncomfortable truth: I'm not inherently better than her. We're both flawed individuals, navigating a world fraught with complexities and uncertainties. Perhaps it's time for me to step down from my pedestal of judgment and acknowledge our shared humanity, flaws and all.

 With a heavy sigh of resignation, I trail after her. Pushing open the door to her room, I find her perched on the bed, clad in more comfortable attire. Stripped of the glamorous makeup and dazzling jewels she typically wears, she appears remarkably younger. A smattering of freckles adorns her bare face, her cheeks flushed with a delicate pink hue. Without the elaborate facade of painted lips and smoky, dark eyeshadow, the sadness lurking within her eyes becomes more apparent. In this moment, she's not the formidable figure I've grown accustomed to; she's simply a girl who has endured more than her fair share of hardships.

 "Out," she sneers, still avoiding my gaze.

 Ignoring her command, I take a seat at the foot of her bed and gently reach for her feet. She tries to kick me away, but I hold her firmly, placing her feet in my lap. "The things you went through are unimaginable, and my heart will never not ache when I think about what you've endured," I begin, keeping my tone gentle as I address her. "If I truly believed you were as malicious as the individuals in WWA, I wouldn't be here, working alongside you. But while I can grasp why you did what you did to Cierien, I'll never comprehend why you hurt Sophie. That's something I can't forgive, Idalia."

 She presses her tongue against her cheek, scrutinizing my eyes for signs of sincerity. Satisfied with what she sees, she nods. "Apology accepted," she says, accompanied by a playful roll of her eyes before wriggling free from my grasp.

 I release her, rising to my feet and giving her a playful shove. "You're insufferable," I tease, unable to suppress a small smile at the familiar banter between us.

 "Fine, I take it back. Fuck off, sleep terribly, and see you tomorrow."

 "Yeah, you too, pretty girl," I mock her affectionate nickname for me, blowing her a playful kiss before heading out of her room. "Oh, and be ready early tomorrow."

 "For what?" she queries.

 I shoot her a mischievous wink. "We're going shopping."

//

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