Patient B-2

Chapter Eighteen: Avalyn

 "A child with a Wellington?" Aren's voice slices through the air, catching me off guard.

 I almost forgot he was present; he's been so silent. I turn over my shoulder, nearly jumping when I find him sitting right beside me on the other side of the bars. "Two hundred years and you never mentioned this?" he frowns, his disappointment palpable at the revelation withheld from him for so long.

 "I'm sorry, Aren," she says gently, her irritation giving way to kindness in her tone. "I do my best not to think about that man."

 "Why would someone turn over their own son to be experimented on– to be tortured?" I inquire, feeling a pang of guilt for prying, yet driven by the need to understand.

 As the words slip from my lips, I wish I could take them back, instantly reminded of the heartlessness exhibited by Aren's own parents. The notion of condoning anyone's experimentation, let alone one's own flesh and blood, rattles me to the core. I find myself grappling with the incomprehensible depth of such cruelty, unable to reconcile any justification for subjecting an innocent soul to such torment. It's a chilling revelation that pierces through me, leaving me shaken to the core and questioning the very essence of humanity and the darkness that lurks within others.

 Her gaze meets mine, a haunted expression etched into her features. I'm on the verge of urging her to spare the details, to forget it altogether, but before I can utter a word, her lips part to speak. "Wrath's origins weren't born from love. I was sixteen, barely more than a child myself when I met his father..." She pauses, drawing in a steadying breath before pressing on. "He was in his late thirties. He had a wife and children at the time, but he didn't let that get in the way of his sick desires."

 My jaw clenches, tears threatening to escape once more. "In my era, it wasn't too strange for a man to want to date younger girls. Sixteen-year-old girls married grown men all the time. But I didn't know any better when one of my father's friends took a liking upon me that wasn't normal. I was too young to see the sickness. He took advantage of my naivety, always sneaking into my room late at night to talk. It started off so seemingly innocent, until one day, it wasn't. He made me believe he loved me, but if it was love then I wouldn't have feared those nightly visits. When I realized I was pregnant, I ran to my father."

 My heart lurches in my chest, realizing that one day, Wrath will have to hear this painful story. But more than that, I ache for the woman sitting across from me. She was just a child.

 "WWA had already been thriving for quite some time, its success undeniable. My father and him were close friends, despite my father being a decade older. When my parents discovered the truth, they attempted to sever ties with him, to erase any trace of his involvement in WWA. But it wasn't that simple. He was a co-founder, just as they were, but his influence and wealth surpassed theirs. The Wellingtons had always wielded more power than the others. He managed to strip them of their title, compelling them to operate under his name. With time, my family's lineage dwindled, leaving only me," she concludes, tears trickling down her cheeks, though she swiftly brushes them away.

 Witnessing the opulence of the Wellingtons firsthand, I had already surmised that they wielded more power than the other families. However, learning that their influence stretches back four hundred years— that they've held sway for such an extensive period— is truly unsettling.

 "What became of you after that?" Aren whispers, his voice barely audible.

 "Well, I gave birth. That despicable man took my son from me, and I was forced to live apart from him. Not even his own father lived with him," she scoffs, before continuing, "He would never compromise the facade of his picture-perfect family. No, he had a reputation to maintain. No one knew about me, and more importantly, they didn't know about Wrath."

 "But he allowed visits?" I ask, remembering how Wrath mentioned seeing her occasionally, only for those visits to cease when he turned thirteen.

 "Yes," she breathes out, releasing a heavy sigh. "I was allowed to visit a few times each month. By the time I reached thirty years old, almost the same age he was when it all began, I made the decision to speak out. I wanted the world to know what he did to me— what he was doing to my son, keeping him locked away from society, but—" she cuts off, lifting her head to blink back the tears.

 "But what?" Aren questions, urging her to continue.

 "But he turned you over to be experimented on," I finish for her, the pieces clicking into place.

 I don't need any more details to understand the kind of man Wrath's father is. "Wrath was constantly relocated after age fourteen, but he eventually met the same fate at twenty-one," I add, a sense of anger and sadness washing over me.

 Her attempts to blink away the tears fail, a sob breaking through her body. "I failed him," she admits, her voice choked with emotion.

 "You did everything you could," I speak firmly, offering what little comfort I can in the face of such pain.

 The woman across from me is a victim; there's no other way to put it. At sixteen years old, she was preyed upon by a man who should have known better, while she was just half his age. Forced into a situation she never planned for, she endured the pain of childbirth only to be kept away from her own child— never allowed to be the present mother she wanted to be. Despite her circumstances, she did the best she could. I wish, more than anything, she could see that. And I know, without a doubt, Wrath would see it too.

 I don't hesitate to voice this to her. "Wrath would never blame you. Please know that, above anything else. He loves you."

 While Wrath has undoubtedly been deeply affected by his mother's absence, it's abundantly clear that he loved her. As he himself confessed, he never allowed himself to grow close to anyone besides her and Cierien. Forgiving her wouldn't even be a question for him, especially if he were to hear what really happened.

 "Do you really think that?" she stammers out, her words muffled by her cries.

 "I know so. He's never loved anyone as much as he's loved you," I affirm.

 She nods, using her other hand to wipe away her tears. "You must know him well," she states, more as an observation than a question.

 "I do. I love him very much" I confess, the admission slipping out before I can suppress it.

 Flushed with embarrassment, I'm hit with a wave of vulnerability. It's something I haven't even admitted to myself since I left— that I still love them. I hadn't intended to reveal the depth of my feelings, but there it is, laid bare. And while I hadn't planned on delving into the intricacies of our relationship, it seems the moment demands it. More importantly, I hadn't meant to imply ongoing contact between us. Still, perhaps she deserves to know as much as I'm willing to share. After all, she hasn't seen her son in ages, and it feels like the least I can do to offer her some insight into his life.

 "Oh, how lovely," she smiles through her tears. "You seem like a sweet girl, Avalyn. I'm glad he has someone as caring as you. Can you tell me about him? Anything... everything? Whatever you're willing to share?"

 Her words warm my heart, and I feel a sense of gratitude for her kindness despite the circumstances. Taking a deep breath, I begin to paint a picture of Wrath for her, recounting memories, quirks, and anecdotes that I've cherished over our time together. With each word, I hope to bring her a glimpse of the son she has missed for so long.

 I recount the story of how I found him, the twists and turns that led me to him, and the moment I realized I was in love with him— sitting beside him on the piano bench, the very instrument she had taught him how to play. I share with her the bond between Wrath and Cierien, their inseparable relationship, and the unbreakable love that defines them. However, I omit the ending, choosing instead to read her the love story without revealing its tragic conclusion. After all, love stories are supposed to have a happily ever after.

 Why couldn't it have had a happily ever after?

//

I'm critical of the last chapter🤨🤨 

so here's another :)