Patient B-2

Chapter Forty: Wrath

I have this urge to throttle Avalyn, with her deceivingly delicate neck, for callously discarding the newfound information that she knew would cut me to the core. Despite her words, a stubborn part of me clings to disbelief, unwilling to accept that my mother might truly still exist out there, after all these years.

Deep down, I know she must be speaking the truth. She withholds any further details, insisting that my mother alone holds the answers. But with my mother nowhere to be found, I'm left adrift. Avalyn's admission that she couldn't secure my mother's release only fuels my frustration. Though I know Avalyn's intentions were not malicious, the anger still smolders within me.

Right now, I have to force the whole ordeal out of my mind- shove it into some mental corner and pretend it's not unfolding. It's overwhelming, the weight of it all too heavy to bear. I lack the capacity to confront such a monumental truth.

Cierien settles beside me, his expression etched with a hint of trepidation. He seems almost afraid as if he's bracing for an imminent storm. And perhaps he's right to be wary- I feel the tempest brewing within, threatening to unleash its fury. Yet, even with the mounting pressure, I cling to a semblance of composure, fighting to restrain the deluge that threatens to engulf me.

"I understand that's not what you wanted to hear, and I know it's terrible. But when I realized I had the chance to leave everything behind and start anew, I felt a sense of relief. For once in my life, I needed to be selfish. I needed to run," she says from outside, speaking to Sophie.

Her words make me want to scream. Doesn't she realize she can't escape from us- that I'd never allow it? No matter how far she flees, I'll pursue her relentlessly, refusing to let her slip through my grasp. And I think some part of her likes that. Within her veneer of nonchalance, I detect a glimmer of satisfaction at the thought of being pursued. It's an impulse she'd never openly acknowledge, yet I sense that, at some level, she relishes the idea of the chase as much as I do.

Even though she's displaying some bratty behavior at the moment, she's still our girl- our responsibility. I feel a strong urge to shake some sense into her. While I empathize with her current actions, it would be far easier if she ran at us, instead of away.

I underestimated the challenge. She's transformed- grown stronger. There's a new confidence in her demeanor, a profound understanding of her own value, and a recognition that we may not fully deserve her. That realization only fuels my determination to prove otherwise. We all deserve one another, and it's within our power to rise to her level. We can become better for her. We will become what she needs.

I'll concede that my approach since we arrived hasn't been ideal. Interfering with Sophie was a misstep; seeing her direct her anger towards Sophie instead of us struck a nerve. I want her to unleash her frustrations- to vent, shout, and direct it all at us- not at Sophie. Sophie doesn't deserve that after enduring so much.

It's tough when words seem to fall short. Right now, it feels like there's a barrier between us and her, and nothing we say seems to break through. We've pleaded for forgiveness, but it seems our words alone aren't enough. Now, it's our actions that need to speak for us. We have to show her the sincerity and depth of our remorse through what we do, not just what we say.

"Wrath, can we talk?" Cierien's voice breaks the heavy silence, his hand reaching out for mine.

This time, I don't pull away. I allow his touch, feeling the warmth of his hand enclosing mine, a silent reassurance. "I don't have the words," I admit, my voice barely a whisper.

Last night was torment. All I could think about was breaking down that door just to be near her, to say something, anything, or simply to gaze upon her. I crave her presence now more than ever. She's right there, within arm's reach, yet so impossibly far away. I could step out this door and stand before her, but she's made it clear she wants nothing to do with us.

Cierien and I endured the night together, consumed by the rhythm of her breath echoing through the silence. But restlessness eventually took hold, driving us to rummage through her room, looking for some sort of connection to her. I found a book- my favorite. I didn't know what to make of it; I don't even know if she remembers. It made me feel warm though- knowing that while she was gone, she had this connection to me, whether she knew it or not.

We eventually found ourselves sprawled across her bed, clutching onto garments imbued with her scent, lost in the vast expanse of the ceiling above us, our minds adrift in a sea of unanswered questions and unspoken longing.

It's hard not to wonder if things might have been different if there wasn't someone else involved. Maybe if it had just been her, standing there when we walked in, we could have faced the situation head-on and had a real conversation. But seeing her on her knees before another man, it blindsided me completely. It shattered any chance of a calm, rational discussion, leaving me reeling with shock and confusion.

Since she's been gone, the mere thought of being with someone else hasn't crossed my mind. It's inconceivable, unimaginable. Avalyn holds my heart, and that's a truth that transcends any distance or circumstance, even death. And it's the same for Cierien. She's our everything, our one and only. She's it for us.

Their connection may seem fleeting from an outsider's perspective, just two weeks in each other's company, with a handful of days spent here in this apartment. It appears insignificant. Yet, I understand firsthand how profound a bond can become under dire circumstances. Cierien and I, we forged an unbreakable connection amidst our shared trauma, and now, we're inseparable. Some of it undoubtedly stems from the trials we faced together, the scars that bind us as tightly as love does.

I have no doubt they experienced unimaginable trials together, the kind that forges bonds that are nearly unbreakable. Trauma bonding, like what Cierien and I share, it's a heavy burden to carry. I can only hope that it's not as enduring as it is intense, that with time and healing, its grip loosens, allowing Avalyn to find peace apart from him- and with us.

The kid, Aren, is a little twit. He appears utterly oblivious, and the fact that he's related to such a problematic individual, the spawn of satan, only adds to the concern. She couldn't possibly like him- she can't. It's likely just a result of what she endured, a temporary attachment that pales in comparison to the bond she shares with us. Once she sees that, the sooner the better. Perhaps she's only using him to provoke a reaction from us, but deep down, I know that's just wishful thinking, a product of my own delusion.

Sophie cautiously enters the room, breaking me from my thoughts, her eyes wide with apprehension, as if bracing herself for my potential harshness. "Are you alright?" she ventures, her gaze assessing my demeanor with caution.

I simply nod, shifting closer to Cierien and gesturing for Sophie to join us. "Come on, join the party," I quip, the sarcasm falling flat amidst our collective exhaustion.

She settles beside me, laying her head back, lost in thought. Hours pass in silence, none of us finding the energy for conversation. And then more time slips away, until an entire day has been squandered in silence, the weight of our emotions suffocating any inclination for words.

She's just beyond that door, within arm's reach yet impossibly distant. In this moment, I feel utterly powerless, as if my words and actions hold no sway over the chasm that separates us. It's a despairing realization, leaving me feeling utterly hopeless.

I wish she'd let me hold her- I just want to hold my girl once more.