Save Him

Chapter 70

My eyes flutter slowly and meet endless darkness. I curl under the sheets in a ball; utter silence. I bite my lip as I glance towards the clock that stands on my nightstand. It's three in the morning. I can't believe the weekend went by that fast. I have to wake up in four hours. I attempt to fall back asleep when a long sigh ceases the ambient tranquility.

I turn around.

His eyes are wide open, glued to the ceiling of my room. They are glistening as if they consist of pure crystal or tears. His expression is blank, free of any evidence and clues; no frown or scowl. His lips are not pressing against each other, yet, they are slack. His hair is messier than usual, probably due to the number of times his fingers have run through them.

"Corbyn," My whisper doesn't scare him. He turns his head to the side to meet my gaze. "What's wrong?"

He rocks his head lightly. He grips my hand and buries it between his own palms. "Nothing is wrong,"

The answer causes an ache in my heart. He doesn't want to talk. Although, there's nothing more I could want from him right now.

"I'm worried, that's all," The mystery of his sentence overcomes my surprise at him craving to confide in me.

"About what?"

"The court," He mutters. He unlocks our eyes and stares at our bedroom's sky.

"This week will have our big news." A sudden intake of breath enters my lips at his words as I gape at him. I had no idea we were that close to the end or the start of his hell. My heart clenches at the unwelcome thought. "All those months I have been waiting for this to happen. This week was so..." He halts as if he searches the words. "So fucking exhausting. I'm so sick of it, Amelia,"

He eyes me from the side. I nod, knowing that I can see right through his pair of eyes. I can discern the tiredness, the worries, the angst. No one should have to go through this at this age, let alone by their own parents. My stomach twists and my insides feel like melting and blazing at the same moment.

His eyes are wide awake, afraid, and bold. He's frightened, yet, he seems dauntless. His stare doesn't leave mine.

"I'm tired of going to courts, fighting all day with no results, worrying about the future of my sister, about what future we can have or what kind of future I can provide you if I don't win. I'm battling against the monsters that created me, and sometimes, I can't stop but think that I'm like them,"

I shake my head in denial; too shocked and wounded to utter a single word of defense.

"Maybe I'm like them," He voices his greatest fear, and I almost hear something within me shatter into million pieces.

"No," I state, muttering. "You're nothing like your parents."

"You don't know that," I move closer to his figure and take his face in my hands, regarding him closely.

"I do," I whisper. "Baby, I do." My voice softens; if we weren't tangled up in bed, so close, I know he couldn't hear me. "You are smart and confident like your father, yes, but you are also kind and considerate, and generous. Your father does not have any of that, even if he wished he did. And yes, you have some similarities with your mother, but you were never so selfish and mean and disrespectful, especially to the people you love." His eyes fall from mine. He doesn't feel worthy of those words; he feels as if I'm talking about someone who he can only admire from afar and never become him. And that's the biggest cost he pays from his damaged parents. I will always hate them for that. They might be the reason my angel exists, but, they are also the reason he has become miserable for so many years, chasing meaningless things that emptied his soul.