Chapter Thirty

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I couldn't speak. I could feel the bile in my throat whenever I opened my mouth so it remained shut, even when spoken to. It was rude, I knew that, but everyone and their mother knew that today was not the day to speak to me. Or anyone in the Darlington family for that matter. We were all mute. And couldn't speak. We wouldn't speak.

"Katie it's time to get dressed," Harry whispered as he stood at my door, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets as he looked at the state that sat before him.

I shook my head.

"Please," he pleaded as he took a step closer towards me, running a frustrated hand through his hair, "don't make me do it for you,"

"You wouldn't dare touch me," I spat, those words being the first I'd spoken in a long time. He stepped back in shock, but recovered quickly as he threw the black long-sleeved designer dress in my direction, a pair of black Louboutin pumps being shoved into my face.

I sighed and took the dress and shoes and walked into the bathroom, closing the door but not locking it, my conscious reminding me of what I was capable of doing once I did. I slipped out of my robe and reluctantly put on the dress that ended just above the knee, sliding into the red soled pumps and attempting to fix the birds nest above my head. After a lot of tugging, pulling and straightening, I managed to get my hair dead straight and smooth looking; a big contrast to how it had looked for the past few weeks.

It hurts to say that I've been doing a whole lot better than my mother, considering the copious amounts of cuts on my arms and constant nightmares, but she's been doing a lot worse. Like the rest of us, she's gone mute for a while, and refuses to leave her room. She hasn't eaten in days and the other day the maids were forced to hold her down and shove her dinner down her throat. Sam thinks she should got to a mental hospital, or at least see a therapist, however I fought against it and refused to let her he treated the same way I had to be. It'll only drive her crazier, and not make her the slightest bit better. I know she's going to be a lot worse today, hence why I've taken the time to prepare myself and others. I've given the maids specific instructions to not let her into the kitchen, and to keep all knives and pills away from her. She's suicidal, and even though she won't admit it, everyone and their mother knows that today will only push her to the edge.

"You look... good," Harry spoke as he leaned against the door frame of my bathroom. I sighed and turned away from the mirror, my own face making me feel queasy and made way downstairs and into the foyer.

I was greeted with a nod from my brother as he buttoned his blazer and fixed his tie, his eyes red and puffy from all the crying he'd done earlier. I nodded back before looking to the stairs, to see Henry helping my mother down the stairs as she clasped onto his hands, her cheeks were hollowed and her eyes carried more bags than a shopaholic during the January sales.

I turned away and decided to focus instead on Harry, I couldn't bare to see my mother so fragile and weak, especially since she was supposed to be the strongest here.

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