Patient B-2

Chapter Eighteen: Avalyn

 More than anything, the thought of facing Sophie again fills me with terror. I've undoubtedly been the worst friend imaginable, and the idea of confronting my past is daunting. However, it's a step I know I must take. When I finally leave this place, I'll summon the courage to be honest with them. It's time to face the consequences of my actions and begin to make amends.

 As uncertain as I am about Sophie's capacity to forgive me, I know she deserves the truth. Frankly, I feel a sense of obligation towards Cierien and Wrath as well, though not to the same extent. They betrayed me, not her. In fact, there's a part of me that relishes the thought of seeing the hurt reflected in their eyes— the same hurt they inflicted upon me the night my life changed irrevocably.

 Despite the tears staining her face, Jeannette emits a lighthearted chuckle, a gentle smile breaking through the emotional turmoil. "He's a good boy, isn't he? Is he still good?" she inquires with hope in her voice.

 I cannot bring myself to relive the horrors of our tumultuous love story to her. How could I possibly recount to a mother, longing for her son, the atrocities he inflicted upon me? Instead, I choose to cherish the moments of joy and warmth he brought into my life.

"He still loves to read," I tell her, sensing the yearning in her eyes for insight into the man her son has become.

 "He would immerse himself in them, devouring knowledge day and night. It was as if he couldn't get enough information into that brilliant mind of his," I say with a fond chuckle, gently squeezing her delicate fingers.

 "And the piano...," I continue, a soft smile playing on my lips as I recall the memories. "He still loves it because of you. He played for me once, and it was truly magical. I find myself reminiscing about it more often than I care to admit. He's incredibly talented."

 "He used to radiate with joy whenever I took him to play," she recalls through tears, her voice thick with emotion. She lowers her head, allowing her tears to flow freely.

 "He is... he still is a sweet man," I acknowledge, feeling the weight of honesty pressing upon me. "He has his moments," I add, knowing I couldn't paint a picture of perfection. "But deep down, he has a good heart. He's just been through a lot."

 "I fought tooth and nail to pull him out of that suffocating house," she confesses, her voice laced with remorse.

 It takes me a moment to understand what she's trying to say, but the realization finally dawns. "He shared pieces of his past with me, but I never knew you were waging your own battle to rescue him. I'm not even sure if he realized your efforts. He thought you abandoned him."

 "I did," she whispers amidst her sobs, her voice trembling with raw emotion. "I tried so desperately, but in the end, he surrendered him to be experimented on, didn't he?"

 Feeling perplexed, I'm at a loss for words. I'm unsure of who she's referring to. Wrath hinted at a figure having the authority to deliver him to the Adairs, yet he never divulged any identifying details. I'm uncertain if he even knew who the man was. "He was sent to my relatives later in life, but I'm not sure who he is," I muse silently, trying to piece together the puzzle of her words.

 She scoffs, disdain etching her features as she shakes her head in disbelief. Her hand slips away from mine, sending a surge of dread through me, fearing I've misspoken. But she presses on, "His father," she declares with a sharp tone.

 And just when I thought I couldn't be any more baffled. She rubs at her eyes wearily, running her hand back through her hair to compose herself. "He was a Wellington, and the literal devil reincarnated," she exclaims, her frustration evident in her tone.