Ares Simon's POV:
I clenched my fists tightly, trying to suppress the tremors pulsating through my body.
With a slightly shaking hand, I retrieved a cigarette from my pocket, lighting it up and taking a deep puff, so deep that scorched my throat. I welcomed the burning sensation, but it did nothing to ease the intense emotions overwhelming me.
Anguish, a pain so deep and profound it felt like drowning, and a kind of rage I had never experienced before; an intense fury that ran deep into every. single. pore! My blood pulsed through my veins at a pace that seemed as though it could pour out like molten lava from my pores.
My chest heaved in the slowest menacing rhythm, nostrils flaring, and my jaws clenched dangerously tight, the veins on my temples almost reaching the breaking point under the pressure.
She was nine...
F*cking Nine years old...
Just a little kid...
Those wide, alarmed, and terrified amber eyes, her small frame with knees curled against her chest while holding the knife, flashed back in front of me. Blood dripping from her hands, and my breathing shallowed again.
I took a drag from my cigarette, exhaling smoke into the air, and rubbed my hands on my face, forcing myself to think straight.
I wanted to—no—I needed to know everything about her...
When my initial shock subsided, I picked up the file once again, inhaling a bracing breath, and read through the pages. The more I read, the more my eyebrows furrowed, stopping at the final summary of the case.
"What the heck is this?" I demanded, my voice deadly calm, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside.
Ronald shifted on his foot under my intense glare. "T-this is all he has gathered. This case file was found in the department's past record files. It's been twenty years, sir. It would be impossible to retrieve full records unless the case had been digitally recorded later, but that has already been erased." My gaze hardened at his stuttering response, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "But the investigator is still searching. In his recent email, he mentioned that the initial detective of the case was changed in the middle, and the case was transferred."
My sharp glare bore into him. "I didn't pay you to bring me back an update; I paid for results," I drawled, my hand clenching the file in an aggressive hold. The other rested on my knee, the cigarette smoldering between my index and middle fingers.
"Find this person," I commanded, my voice cutting through the air like frost. "Find George Harper for me, and locate Dara Parker, Jim Colson, and Freda Thompson." My tone carried a chilling determination. "I don't care if they are in jail, out of the country, or even six feet under the ground. Bring me their corpse if they are dead. Do. You. Understand?" I snarled, pinning him with a fierce glare.
Ronald's eyes widened fleetingly as he stepped back, nodding his head and stuttering a response. "U-understood, sir!" The tension in the corridors lingered, a few staff personnel eyed us but I was too far enraged to give a damn about them.
I dismissed Ronald with a curt wave and massaged my temples, attempting to clear the blurring vision caused by overwhelming rage.
Shifting my focus, I turned my gaze back to the file in my hand, and with a heavy exhale of breath, I braced myself to continue reading. A stack of papers revealed a detailed report from a child psychologist, Dr. Jeremy Smith, outlining Elysia's condition and behavior.
Elysia remained in shock after the harrowing incident. In her unconscious state, she screamed for Nova several times, her cries echoing the trauma she endured. However, in her conscious moments, she was completely unresponsive, not uttering a single word. Dr. Smith, after thorough study of the case and her condition, assumed that Nova was the horse beside whom Elysia was found.
Each visit from Dr. Smith revealed Elysia curled in the fetal position in the corner of the room, a poignant manifestation of her deep-seated fear, not allowing anyone to approach her.
The first mention of Nova's name evoked a strong response from Elysia, triggering a wave of self-harming behavior. In response, she was restrained for weeks to ensure her safety. It took months of therapies and counseling, coupled with the unwavering support of the Lawson couple, to slowly build her trust in them. The journey to bring her back to life spanned years, a testament to the profound scars etched into her soul.
During the months when Elysia's condition was not suitable for testifying, George Harper, the detective handling the case, reported the issue. However, he was abruptly dismissed from the case, and Elysia never had the opportunity to testify.
Countless questions swirled in my mind about the case, about the Lawsons, but my thoughts gravitated towards the girl lying unconscious just a wall away from me. Throwing away the cigarette, my feet moved seemingly of their own accord, each step burdened with a heavy weight cuffed around my ankles, making each subsequent step even more ponderous than the last.
The surrounding sounds dwindled to a hush, leaving only the echo of my own steps reverberating in my ears. With a gentle click of the doorknob, I slowly pushed the door open, the redness rimming my eyes evident, shifting my gaze to her.
A lump formed in my throat, and a sharp stab pierced my chest as I beheld her pale form. Each step I took towards her felt slow and burdened. Finally, I stood beside her bed, heart thumping inside my chest.
My eyes traveled to her right hand lying by her side. Slowly, my hand lifted towards hers, hesitating a few inches away before gently opening her hand.
And there it was...
A scar etched into her palm. Delicately thin, like a poignant mark, it lay flat, not raised or bumpy, seamlessly blending into the lines of her hand, like a part of her. It was a silent reminder to a harrowing incident.
My fingers trembled, and a small, stifled sigh escaped my lips abruptly. I don't know what I was thinking. I wished this was all a dream; I wished nothing like that happened to her; I wished she hadn't suffered all that; an absurd and foolish wish, but the mark on her hand shattered the hope, leaving the most horrifying reality before me.
In that moment, I finally allowed myself to break down. The events of today, her piercing screams, the weight of the investigation report, the memories of our school days that we spent together, the good times, the arguments that followed when we met again—every moment I spent with her flooded over me.
Tears escaped my eyes, falling onto the hand that held hers. As the strength left my legs, I knelt on the floor beside her bed. Resting my head on the corner of her bed. Quiet and restrained breaths of anguish echoed in the otherwise silent room.
Every person encounters this question at least once in their life: What is the extent of pain? Where does the limit of endurance lie?
Today, I ponder, what people often say is probably the truth...
We can't truly understand someone just by looking at them, gauging the depths of their struggles.
I've always seen her smiling; always seeking positivity in everything, but how long can that last?
Everyone has their limits, but where does Elysia Lawson's end?
If the agony she witnessed were inflicted on an inanimate stone, it would have shattered into million pieces and crumbled to dust, yet she stands here today; resilient and unyielding.
I always believed I had loved Elysia Lawson intensely at one time. I admit this now, but today, I feel ashamed of it.
What kind of love have I had that I never knew anything about her?
What kind of love was it that I never understood the pain and suffering hidden beneath the bright surface of those amber eyes?
What kind of love was it that I never saw the struggles behind her smile?
I've always thought she lied to me, distanced herself from me, didn't value me, broke my trust; Me, Me, Me!
In all these "Me" thoughts, where did I place her?
I never even tried to understand her actions...
That was not love... There's no "Me" in love, that was selfishness.
I admit today that I never deserved Elysia Lawson...
I don't deserve her...
But if I lose her again now, I'll be left empty-handed for the rest of my life. It might be selfish, but if it's wrong, then so be it. Letting her go now is impossible for me.
I turned my head slightly, studying her sleeping form. She had been in a deep slumber for nearly two hours; why wasn't she waking up?
"Hey," I croaked, exhaling a silent sigh. "Wake up, huh?" My words hung in the air without a response.
"What am I going to do with you?" I mumbled against her shoulder, scooting closer and gently stroking her cheek. Her face felt warm against my icy fingertips.
I used to believe Elysia had a habit of concealing her emotions, but now, knowing everything about her, I understood that it wasn't a natural inclination. She was deliberately depriving herself of normal human emotions.
I blinked rapidly to clear my blurred vision, bringing her hand close to my cheek. "Sweetheart, I can shield you from the world. I can protect you from others, but how do I protect you from your own self?" My voice cracked, tracing the scar on her palm. "How can I save you from the demons you've created inside you to punish yourself?"
My murmuring abruptly halted as the door of the room swung open with a slight creak.
I turned my head sharply towards the sound, half anticipating the return of the doctors with news about Elysia's condition. However, the unexpected visitor who entered was the last person I thought I would see.
Rising to my feet with a swift motion, I composed myself and discreetly wiped away any evidence of my emotional turmoil. She stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her.
Even with her hoodie pulled low and a mask covering part of her face, I could identify those distinctive icy silver-grey eyes. Silently lowering her hood and removing the mask, she approached Elysia's bedside, ignoring my presence.
My eyes instantly sharpened, assessing every move she made, though I refrained from taking any action.
Esme's gaze swept over Elysia, a careful inspection to ensure she was unharmed. She then reached for Elysia's wrist, checking her pulse. I furrowed my eyebrows, perplexed by the visible relief that crossed Esme's face.
Before I could grasp the meaning behind her actions, her sharp eyes locked onto mine as she rested her hands on the bed surface. "Explain!" It was a demand encapsulated in a single word.
Okay, we're not going to get along...
"Let's talk outside," I replied in an equally cold tone, striding out of the room without waiting for her response.
I found it somewhat hard to believe that these two have been friends for more than ten years. It was an odd combination, a friendship between an angel and a devil.
Odd, quite odd!
Noticing the file still on the seat outside, I sat down and discreetly hid it, just in case Esme might come across it.
Esme emerged from the room and took a seat, leaving a two-seat gap. I truthfully explained everything that had happened, because there was something I needed to know, and she was the closest person to Elysia who could provide me with the information I sought.
"Elysia... When she screamed, her nose started bleeding," I disclosed. Esme's head snapped towards me with a lightning speed. "Doctors are running tests, but I wanted to know if this has ever happened before?" The memory of that moment continued to weigh on my mind.
"Did you get hurt?" Her sudden, unrelated question caught me off guard. My eyebrows raised in shock as her eyes shifted down to my arm. Following her gaze, I noticed my bandaged wound. It's already been treated, but dried blood stains remained on the sleeve of my white shirt.
"Did this happen right in front of her?" She inquired again, her concern for Elysia etched across her face. Realization slowly dawned upon me.
"Yeah! It somehow unfolded right before her eyes. Is it because of this?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows in worry. Seeing blood must have triggered her, and it's understandable given her condition, but this strong reaction? My fists involuntarily clenched, anger resurfacing at both Sebastian and myself for letting this happen to her. Esme quietly observed me, uttering no response, her cold eyes revealing nothing about her thoughts.
She was as distrusting of me as I was of her...
"About Nova... Do you know anything?" I asked further cautiously, weighing how much of my knowledge to reveal.
"Discard that file; you won't get far with it," she pointed out abruptly, her tone icy.
Damn!
My eyes widened momentarily, but I swiftly regained composure, maintaining a calm and cold expression. Looking closely, I couldn't comprehend her thoughts, she neither looked mad, nor pleased with the fact that I dug into Elysia's past.
Well, I didn't particularly care for her opinion in my affairs, but this does inflate my worries. Would she tell this to Elysia?
I couldn't afford that at any cost. Not right now at the least.
I was used to deal with difficult people. It was a part of my work, but it was almost impossible to gauge this woman's thoughts, so I changed my way.
"So, it's true," I uttered coolly, eyes fixed on her face. "You're her; the infamous one they call 'Aeonis,' aren't you?" I redirected the question towards her.
Esme's expressions remained impassive, not even a twitch in her muscle. Finally, she sighed, her gaze drifting into the distance. After I was getting sure I won't get to know anything from her, she began, "It was her horse. That's as much as I know. Elysia never speaks of Nova, as if he never existed. It's a forbidden topic, the one that even she isn't allowed to broach."
A distant gaze filled her eyes as she turned towards me. "Elysia loves animals, horses especially, but she stays miles away from them. She's never touched an animal again. No matter the advice from doctors, regardless of what we says to her, she never opens up about it. She carries the weight of blame for whatever happened to him but keeps it locked inside. She believes she deserves to suffer in silence, yet she never lets us into that part of her world. It's one of the reasons her trauma never truly healed... She refuses to let go of Nova."
A familiar, dull ache surged within my chest. If it were possible to trade her sufferings for mine, I would have done it in a heartbeat.
She had endured this for the past twenty years.
Even during our school days...
Hold on a moment...
I turned abruptly to Esme, eyebrows furrowing. "She wasn't this closed off in school." I vividly remembered her being lively, smiling often, engaging in conversations, and enjoying outgoing activities.
"Don't you already know?" Esme's sharp tone made me snap my head towards her, a mix of confusion and concern clouding my thoughts.
"Know what?" I asked, completely clueless about the reason of sudden change in her demeanor.
"Didn't your so-called best friend tell you?" Her eyes narrowed into thin slits, glaring into mine.
"What about Maron?" I questioned, growing restless for some reason. "What is it?" I pressed, clenching my fists.
"The day you left school like a damn coward, Elysia ran after you. I don't know what the heck you said to her that made her want to tell you the truth. Instead, she ran into Ophelia's group. I'm sure you don't even know those brats used to bully her every chance they got. Sven and I kept an eye on her because she was reluctant to fight with them." Her voice turned chilly and begrudging. My mouth dropped open at the revelation, my heart rate spiking. I had no idea about any of this.
"On her way to your home, they caught up to her that day, assaulted her, fractured her hand and leg. It was Maron Lopez who found Elysia, unconscious in the alley. And you know what? It was your damn ex-girlfriend who paid them to do this." She dropped the bomb on my head, stood up, and walked back into the room without another word, leaving me frozen in shock.
My mind processed the words she just uttered...
That day flashed before my eyes as if etched into my memory for years. A recollection of spotting someone running in the opposite direction through my rearview mirror flickered.
It was Elysia...
My eyes widened, lips parted in utter shock. It was Elysia. She was coming to me; she wanted to tell me the truth.
If only I had waited a few more minutes...
If only I had resisted my rage...
Things would be different now...
Thump! Thump! Thump!
All I could hear was the loud pounding of my own heartbeat echoing in my ears, feeling as if the walls were closing in on me, suffocating me. I undid my shirt's buttons, grabbed my tie, ripped it off, and tossed it aside.
Ophelia's group used to bully her?
Aubrey Anderson paid them to...
And... Maron knew about all this?
My hands entwined in my hair, fists clenching aggressively as the weight of realization began to sink in.
I rose from my chair in a daze, stumbling in my steps. Entering the restroom, I stood in front of the mirror and placed my hands on the counter, staring at the disheveled mess in front of me.
My hair was in disarray, wide and crimson eyes reflecting back at me, several bruises marring my face, and my clothes in disarray. There wasn't a trace of the organized and composed man I used to be.
"How the f*ck could you be so stupid?" I drawled, clenching my fists in frustration.
"HOW THE F*CK!!!" The sound of crashing echoed throughout the quiet room as the mirror in front of me shattered into a million pieces.
A thin line of blood trailed down the broken glass. I withdrew my fist from the shards before striking it again.
The skin on my knuckles slashed open further with each relentless blow, a wave of pain coursing through my nerves.
I relished the painful sensation as my hand dropped to my side, trembling slightly.
Those panicked and hurt amber eyes staring back at me flashed in front of me, abruptly breaking my trance and bringing my senses back, as everything fell back into its place, my surroundings cleared.
Elysia...
I need to see her...
Taking a step back from the counter, I glanced around at the mess I had created, then noticed blood on the floor, dripping from my hand.
Damn!
I can't see her like this...
Turning the faucet on, I examined my knuckles, picking the glass pieces off my skin. The water mixed with the crimson liquid as I washed my hands, trying to erase the evidence of my violent outburst.
The blood didn't stop even after a while of washing, but it slowed. In a hurry, I left it as it was and rushed back to the corridors.
My steps abruptly halted in the middle, spotting two figures emerging from the room.
My heart galloped at the sight of her standing form in front of me. She was awake. Her skin looked paler than usual, long honey-brown hair half-tied on her back, a dark brown office shirt and cream-colored pants a little messy now. Soft amber eyes cast down, her small, pointy nose a little pink due to the cold, and pearly teeth biting anxiously on her rosy lips.
Her head suddenly jerked up, eyes clashing with mine as if sensing my gaze on her, making my heart skip a beat. A gasp escaped her lips, and those innocent eyes widened slightly, freezing her in her steps.
Elysia was okay, standing right in front of me, breathing and alive...
My feet moved on their own accord, propelling me towards her in fast and long strides. Before I knew it, I enveloped her in my arms, wrapping one arm around her waist firmly, and another hand buried in her hair, pulling her against my chest as I buried my head in the hollow of her neck.
Instantly, her soft jasmine scent filled my head, and her warmth spread throughout my body like a soothing balm to all my burning wounds.
After years of wandering around, I felt like, for the first time in my life, I had reached my eternal destination, as if my lost soul had finally found its shore...
"Thank God! Thank God! Thank God!" I whispered, exhaling a shaky breath. My trembling body gradually calmed down, making me aware of my actions.
I instantly felt her stiff state against mine, her hands lying at her sides in shock.
I cursed myself inwardly for my impulsive actions. Involuntarily, I loosened my arms around her and gradually let go, feeling an immediate hollowness inside my chest as a chill spread throughout my limbs—a clear sign of protest from my heart and body.
Stepping back, I composed myself, ignoring the desperate, burning need to take her in my arms again.
I met Elysia's confused, wide golden eyes staring at me in shock. Her gaze shifted to my bruises, then my arm, a clear worried look flickering in her eyes.
Instinctively, I covered my left arm with my hand, "It's nothing, just a cut," I reassured her, but she seemed like she didn't hear me, her gaze fixed on my hand.
Sh*t, my hand! There was still blood around the cuts.
Before I could withdraw my hand, Elysia grabbed my wrist with her small hand. Her touch felt like an electric tickle on my skin, but my eyebrows furrowed when she took my other hand as well, wincing at my cuts before turning my palms.
I was confused until I felt her hands shake, her gaze fixed on the wide scratch marks on my palms. They weren't bleeding; I had already washed my hands. They were just small scratches for me, but looking at Elysia's expressions, it wasn't the same for her.
"D-did I...?" Her very small voice barely reached my ears, even when she was standing so close to me.
"You didn't!" I responded firmly, trying to read her clouded eyes. The worry and clear panic etched on her face made my heart ache.
I was about to hold her hands when she abruptly stepped back, gazing down at her own hands in a very strange way.
A strong wave of panic gripped me, feeling her drifting away. When I tried to take a step towards her, Esme, who was silently watching until now, stepped forward, blocking my way.
My eyes snapped towards her, familiar anger rising once again. She seemed completely unfazed by my glare and slightly shook her head.
"Not the time!" She uttered in a low voice that only I could hear, forming creases on my forehead.
I stood like a statue, helpless, as Esme led Elysia away from me...
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Okay, so long chapter as you guys requested! Don't forget to share your lovely thoughts about the chapter. ❤️
A quick question: How did you find me? And my stories for the first time?