We opted for a ride home, much to the shock of the poor man in the driver's seat, who seemed on the verge of a heart attack upon taking in our appearances. Swiftly, I intervened, compelling him to calmness and relieving some of his panic. Wrath, meanwhile, remained uncharacteristically silent, seemingly shaken by the events of the evening. Secretly, I found satisfaction in his disquiet, realizing that his subdued state would impede any attempts to extract information from me. Despite his curses directed at me for risking damage to the building layout and breaking our phones, I reassured him that both concerns were unfounded as our possessions remained intact.
The ride home felt like an eternity, every minute ticking by with agonizing slowness. As we finally stepped through the door, Cierien and Sophie were upon us in an instant, their expressions a tumult of concern and disbelief. "What the hell happened?" Cierien's voice trembles with urgency as he rushes to Wrath's side, his hands hovering over him as if expecting to find fresh wounds, forgetting for a moment that Wrath is a vampire, capable of healing in an instant. The shock of our appearance seems to freeze them in place, rendering them speechless as they struggle to process.
"She's fucking crazy," Wrath grits out, swatting Cierien off.
"Wow, I could have told you that," Sophie mutters, plopping down onto the couch with ease.
I roll my eyes at their words. "Boohoo, cry me a fucking river. We got exactly what we needed," I retort, tossing my purse onto the coffee table with a nonchalant flick of my wrist.
Sophie's hand shoots out, snatching my purse before I can blink. With a skeptical eye fixed on me, she rummages through it until she retrieves the layout. Smoothly, she irons out the creases, laying it flat before us. As Wrath mumbles something about washing up, signaling his departure, I suppress a smirk, secretly pleased to see him still rattled by our recent escapade.
As the comforting warmth settles in my core, a prickling sense of panic starts to weave its tendrils back into my consciousness. I find myself tuning out the duo before me, their words lost in the cacophony of static reverberating through my mind.
I swivel on my heels, making a beeline for Sophie's room. "Nuh-uh," she interjects with a click of her tongue. "That's my space. You'll have to make do with their shower."
Ignoring her protests, I press on with determined strides, but the brat cuts me off, darting in front of me and delivering a swift push. Without hesitation, I seize her by the throat. I watch as she struggles for breath, her eyes widening in fear, hands clawing at mine in a desperate attempt to break free. "What was that you were saying?" I inquire calmly, tightening my grip ever so slightly. "I didn't hear you the first time. I believe you had something to tell me."
"Idalia!" Cierien yelps, springing to his feet and yanking me off of her.
I don't stick around. As I rush into the bathroom, intent on reaching the solace of the shower, I'm unable to hold back the wave of emotions crashing over me. Before I can reach the haven of hot water, a sob escapes my lips, uncontrollable and raw. Hastily, I twist the faucet, the sound of water masking the sound of my anguish. Collapsing onto the cool tiles, I huddle into myself, burying my face between my knees, using trembling hands to muffle the cries wracking my body.
Exhaustion weighs heavy on my shoulders, a burden I've carried for what feels like centuries. The relentless search for Aren has consumed me, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake. And now, with Avalyn gone and my failure exposed to the others, I feel the weight of my inadequacy pressing down on me like a suffocating cloak.
But I've given my all. I've poured every ounce of strength and determination into this quest. I'm still standing, still breathing. Surely, that counts for something, doesn't it? I've navigated countless dangers, evaded capture, and survived against all odds. Isn't that an achievement in itself?
Yet, despite being closer than I've ever been before, I can't shake the gnawing sense of incompleteness. Aren is out there, somewhere within reach, I can feel it in my bones. But feeling his presence isn't enough. It never will be until I can hold him in my arms once more.
A sudden knock on the door startles me into silence. With a deep breath, I force myself to compose, wiping away the evidence of my tears. At this moment, I find it hard to muster any concern about how I might appear to whoever stands on the other side of the door. I'm ready to unleash my frustration on the intruder, fully expecting it to be Sophie, when the door swings open.
"What if I was naked?" I snap, prepared to confront her, only to be met with a surprising sight. Instead of Sophie's presence, I'm greeted by slightly fearful blue eyes and a shy smile.
"S-Sorry," he murmurs sheepishly. "I just wanted to check on you."
Check on me?
Words catch in my throat as I lock eyes with Cierien. His genuine concern is palpable, his gaze lingering on the remnants of smeared makeup, evidence of my recent tears. But his kindness only serves to stoke the embers of my frustration. "Worry about your damn self," I growl, the anger bubbling up inside me, directed more at myself than at him.
He raises his hands in surrender, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him with a gentle click. Taking a piece of toilet paper, he crouches down before me. "What did I just fucking s-"
"Shh," he swiftly shushes me, the harsh sound not matching his soft expression as he begins wiping around my eyes.
"I don't need you to check on me," I murmur, feeling the tension drain from my body as he continues to clean my face.
A soft chuckle escapes him. "When has Idalia Wellington ever needed anyone?"
"Never," I retort, the word heavy with the weight of a lifetime of self-reliance.
He shakes his head with a knowing smile, disposing of the used piece of toilet paper before settling down beside me. "Why are you crying?" he asks gently.
"I'm not," I reply automatically, attempting to brush off the vulnerability that threatens to surface.
"Right," he responds with a hint of amusement, "because you just like the look of smeared mascara."
"Exactly."
He releases a lighthearted scoff, fixing his eyes on mine. "You can talk to me," he says, his tone more serious this time.
I gaze at him skeptically, unable to shake the weight of guilt that settles in my chest. There's no reason for him to be kind to me, not after what I've done. I manipulated him, used him, and ultimately betrayed him by turning him over to my parents. Although it was coerced, he doesn't know this- it all appears as my doing in his eyes.
"Why are you being nice to me?" I finally ask, the words heavy with the burden of my conscience.
He purses his lips, a conflicted expression crossing his features as his gaze drops to his hands, where his fingers fidget restlessly. "I can't find it in me to be angry with you right now," he admits quietly, his words laden with a mix of emotions- forgiveness, confusion, and perhaps even a hint of lingering hurt.
"You should be."
"Perhaps in the past, I was consumed by centuries of anger and heartbreak towards you. But now, I refuse to carry that burden any longer. I've made peace with it all."
Tension coils in my throat, a weight pressing down, and I instinctively bite my lip, desperate to hide the tumult of emotions swirling within me. But I can't, and instead, it all slips out. "I was only five," I begin, each word escaping through clenched teeth as vulnerability floods my senses, threatening to overwhelm me.
"Hm?" His response is a puzzled hum, leaving me grappling with how to articulate the depths of my experience.
"When it all began..." I pause, gathering my resolve before continuing, "I was born into illness, tainted by the legacy of my father's lineage. He... he was a monster- is a monster."
The bitterness in my tone is palpable, each syllable heavy with years of anguish. "He'd been entrenched in the service of WWA for years by then, and when I came into this world, he saw nothing but my defects," I recount with a shudder. "Convinced I wouldn't last long, he made a twisted decision to use me. It started when I was just five years old."
"Use you? I don't understand. What started at-" He starts, but I swiftly interject.
"Luring vampires in with my blood, or sleeping with grown men to get them to come with me... sometimes both," I confess, each memory a painful reminder of the cruel exploitation of my innocence.
"To some, my age didn't matter, to others it did, and I'd have to come up with creative ways to get them to my father," I cut off, a sad chuckle escaping me before I continue. "Most didn't care despite the fact I was just a child."
He sucks in a deep breath, instantly understanding. "Idalia, I-"
I interject, feeling a surge of urgency to lay bare the truth that has festered within me for so long. "My father never believed I'd survive as long as I have, given my underlying illness. But... I did. I was turned only a short while after you were locked up. I need you to understand- I didn't manipulate or hurt you out of desire. I did it because it was all I'd ever been taught to do," I conclude.
"That's what you were trying to tell me," he murmurs, a glimmer of recognition dawning in his eyes as he reminisces about our initial encounter after years of separation. "But I didn't listen. Idalia, I'm so s-"
I halt him with a gentle gesture and a soft chuckle. "I don't blame you," I interject, my tone laced with empathy. "Back then, my only intention was to use my pity story in hopes that you'd help me find Aren. It wasn't... genuine."
"But it is now?" he responds, his voice trailing off, laced with disappointment as the reality sinks in.
I release a heavy sigh, nodding in acknowledgment. "I'm sorry for hurting you," I confess, feeling a pang of discomfort as the words escape my lips.
I reflect on my past, realizing that I've never once apologized to anyone. The word sorry feels foreign on my tongue, a concept I've only ever used sarcastically. Yet, at this moment, it strangely feels right. Cierien and Avalyn are perhaps the only individuals I've genuinely felt guilty for hurting, besides the constant guilt I carry for failing Aren for so long. However, none of their pain is directly my fault.
I didn't intend for Cierien to get captured, just as I didn't want Avalyn or Aren to suffer the same fate. I even searched for Cierien afterward, although deep down, it was mostly for my own benefit. I craved someone to provide me with a sense of safety, especially in the face of the terror instilled by the man I reluctantly call my father. After Aren was taken away, I found myself utterly alone. I've come to forgive myself for seeking to utilize Cierien during that tumultuous time. But ultimately, I suppose it's his forgiveness that holds the most weight.
I'm surprised when he gives it to me. "It's okay," he says shyly, his words carrying a depth of understanding. "Well, it's not okay. But you know what I mean. I forgive you, Idalia. I get why you did what you did. I don't harbor any ill intent toward you."
"Thank you," I say, though it comes out almost as if I'm questioning him.
He laughs gently, and I try to hide my embarrassment. "Avalyn knew. Not everything, but she understood the part I shared with you," I admit, feeling a sense of relief as I divulge more. "She wouldn't have even considered helping me with Aren if she thought everything I did to you was deliberate. She gave me quite a hard time until I finally caved and explained my side. She truly cares about you, you know?" I nudge his shoulder, a touch of warmth softening the atmosphere between us.
His cheeks flush with red, and though I intended for my words to have that effect, I can't help but cringe at his expression. Emotions are so messy. Nonetheless, I press on, reminding myself that if I'm going to be kind, I might as well say everything before reverting to my usual cold demeanor.
"She mentions you sometimes," I continue, observing his reaction carefully. "Oddly enough, it's never anything too negative. If it were me, I'd probably be furious, but there's still this sense of longing in the way she talks about you... and Wrath. It's actually quite nauseating; I have to tune it out sometimes."
"I'm glad you have that, Cier. You deserve to be loved by someone like Av," I admit sincerely, feeling a strange fluttering sensation deep within me as I speak. "I'm sorry I couldn't be that for you."
Despite the circumstances that brought us together, there were moments I found solace in our time. Cierien stood apart from the rest. His kindness, genuine and pure-hearted, set him apart. He respected me in ways others hadn't, and though I kept it hidden then, he seemed to grasp the depths of my being. Now, it's out in the open. We share the anguish of having our autonomy stolen- our choices ripped away. Revealing this vulnerability to him doesn't unsettle me; I'm confident he would never weaponize it against me.
"I just hope her anger isn't stronger than her love," he murmurs softly, his words carrying a weight of concern.
I chuckle lightly at his remark. "I think she can feel both things at once, equally strong," I reply. "I don't doubt that it'll end the way you want it."
"You think?"
I groan, pushing myself to my feet. "I just said so, didn't I?" I remark with a hint of irritation. "Now, get the hell out of the bathroom. I'm done being sappy."
With that, I give him a small shove before slamming the door behind him. Oddly enough, I feel better. The panic has subsided, and a strange feeling now fills me.
Possibly hope?