Lost In The Darkness {Edited}

Chapter~34

I once thought I was similar to the moon, dull myself but helping the stars or people I cared for shine. But reality caught up to me, and I discovered stars don't need moon to shine. They produce their own light by the process of nuclear fusion. In conclusion, while I thought I was helping others, I was the one leeching off the sun.

Pitiful, I know.

‘Are you still upset with me?’

Annoyance crawled its way inside me as the voice echoed in my brain.

Fucking psycho.

‘What do you want?’ I scowled at her, not bothering to hide my disdain.

‘Oh please, I haven't even disturbed you for a while now.’ psycho defended herself.

‘Then continue to do that, because I don't have enough patience to even tolerate your existence let alone entertain it.’ I snapped at her, still pissed at her reckless actions.

‘I am giving you a few hours more, sort your shit out because next time, I'm snatching the control from your fucking grip.’

With that being said, she drawled back into the walls of emptiness, leaving me alone.

That's weird. She has never been considerate, what changed now?

Or did she understood the depraved mood of mine?

Whatever floats her boat, I guess.

“Where have you guys been? I have been worried sick the whole time.”

Nicolo exclaimed, stopping his pacing once his eyes sight us entering the living room.

“Why are you here?” I asked, ignoring his question.

Damien and Emma nodded at me before walking out of the living room. Matthew stared at both Nicolo and I, hesitating to leave us alone.

Finally mustering the courage, he also left but not before announcing his departing words.
“I will be in my room if you guys need me.”

“Why are you here Nicolo?” I asked again.

“I was worried.”

That was his response. That was his fucking response like it was supposed to mean something. Yet, its meaning remained elusive, a cryptic puzzle that offered no solace, only adding to the muddled confusion that prevailed.

The question was loud in my mind, why does he care? Or is he pretending to care? Is he playing a game of deceit? His intents bleed uncertainty that I couldn't solve, so I just said the only words that sit bitterly on my tongue.

“No one asked you to worry about me.”

He released a heavy sigh, his gaze fixed upon me with a yearning that spoke volumes, a silent plea etched in the depths of his eyes. It was a look so intense, so laden with emotion, that one might easily mistake it for the aftermath of a heart-wrenching betrayal, as though I had torn his very heart from his chest.

But I am no fool. Those eyes or words, they meant nothing but a ploy to get inside my head, to make me question the web that I have created in my mind.

An error in the system that I can't afford. Not now at least, where the risk is so grave that the life of many depends on it.

“You don't have to ask me that. Because I will always worry. You might not care about me, but I care about you. I will always care about you, irrespective of what you might believe.”

Lies and pretty lies.

But why do they sound so real? So sincere?

Why do they make me question my beliefs? I don't want to question myself, because of I do and the words turns out to be true, I will hate myself for robbing myself of the care that I could have got.

And I don't want to do that. I already hate myself a lot, I don't want to despise myself more.

It will bring chaos to my mind that will make me do things that I don't want to again.

It will make me want to die, and I fear it will be me to grant myself that wish if that happens.

“Go back to your house, Nicolo.”

"I cannot turn away when my sister is in pain," he confessed, his voice heavy with concern.

"I don't know what it is that's bothering you but I can discern the turmoil in your eyes. It pains me to say this, but your eyes speaks of war so bloody, so haunting that it scares me. I want to stay for you. Is that not the duty of brothers—to offer solace and support in times of need?"

In that fleeting moment, it seemed as though I held the power to request the very sun itself, and he, with unwavering devotion, would deliver it unto me. His words acted as a soothing salve to the wounds of the caged and deprived child that lingered within my soul, offering comfort and reassurance in a world fraught with uncertainty.

Yet, like a wisp of smoke dissipating into the ether, that moment vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving behind only the echo of its passing.

A bitter reminder of what I could have, but what now is out of my reach.

And once again, the hollowness welcomed me like an old friend.

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