The Academy: Uncaged

6. Do or Die

Trigger Warning: panic attacks, PTSD, weapon violence, character death

A/N//: You're getting this a few hours early because tomorrow is a HECKIN' busy day, and I won't have time to get onto Wattpad to post. So here it is!

Idea Man Reacts: 😵🤪🥹

Amelia

Amelia's hands shook as she paced back and forth. The postcard with the bird - she'd made the quick connection that it was, in fact, a mourning dove - was still clutched in her fingers. She didn't know what to do with it. On one hand, she wanted to tear it to shreds and burn the pieces in their apartment's fireplace. On the other hand, she wanted nothing more than to hand it over Christopher so he could protect her and keep her safe. But then again, how could she drag him into yet another one of her messes? He already had so much on his plate with the takeover! She couldn't just ask him to cater to yet another one of her needs, could she?

Amelia pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, attempting to keep the tears that prickled at her eyes at bay. She couldn't cry. Not right now. Crying would just mean that she'd let this sadistic fuck win. She wouldn't allow that. She had to be strong. But the postcard that was clamped between her fingers and the message that was neatly written inside...

I can't wait to hear you sing again, my little Mourning Dove.

Fuck. Those words alone sent waves of panic through her. Then it clicked. She was panicking. Fuck. She was panicking. The signs were all there. Slick sweat coated her shaking palms, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes. The hair on her arms and neck stood on end. Her legs felt weak, and it wasn't from the spanking that Chris had given her. No. This was just raw panic at work. Amelia sank to her knees, attempting to find some center of balance within herself. The chaos that was her raging emotions, however, wouldn't allow her to find that balance.

This couldn't be happening. He was supposed to be in jail! Why was he sending her postcards? Why was he harassing her? Wasn't this supposed to be over? He'd already scarred her beyond relief by all of the things he'd done to her. He'd left her broken and terrified. And she was already so, so tired. She was fighting for peace within her, and it had taken so long for her to feel as though she was winning the war against herself. All it took to tip the scales was a stupid fucking postcard that he'd scrawled some stupid fucking message in. She couldn't do this. Not on her own. How could she possibly do this on her own?

She needed Chris. She needed him close so that he could help her find the answers. She wanted his strong arms around her. She wanted to show him this postcard before she could convince herself that she shouldn't bother him. But he wasn't here. He'd left so conveniently and was now in his office in a meeting. How could the universe be so damn cruel? Why did bad things always happen when he was gone?

Amelia swallowed and stared down at the postcard in her hand. She could wait forty-five minutes for Christopher to come home. She could set the postcard on the table and talk to him about it when he walked through the door. But something inside of her told her that this couldn't wait. That she needed to tell him about it before she had a chance to convince herself otherwise. But how could she when Chris was meeting with his advisors?

She whimpered there on the floor as she dug her palms into her eyes yet again. Fucking choices. She had fucking choices to make. She couldn't sit here and fucking wait for Christopher to come back. She was already well fucking aware that she'd just drive herself crazy if she did that. Nope. She needed to find him. And that meant walking out the damn door that the note had been slipped under.

Fuck.

Amelia stared at the doorway with hints of fear in her watery gaze. The last time she'd answered the door, it had been in their old apartment. Erik had been behind it, and he'd... He'd done irreversible things to her. The damage was much more than physical. It was mental, too. She was terrified of opening that door because she simply didn't know what or who was behind it. Trying to convince herself now that he wouldn't be there was no easy feat. But she needed to do this. She refused to suffer alone. Not this time.