silent

14

• AMALIA •

When we get back to the house after a car ride that felt longer than it was, I rush to go inside, but have to wait at the front door because my father has the keys to it and it's locked.

He gets out of the drivers seat and walks over to me, a curious and concerned look on his face as he puts the key into the lock and twists it, pushing the door open wide enough for me to step inside first.

"I'll come check on you in a little bit, alright?" He says.

I nod and turn away from him quickly, making my way up the stairs and to the safety of my bedroom.

I lock the door and immediately change back into my pyjamas, tears stinging my eyes the entire time. I jump into bed and wrap the covers tightly around myself.

And as soon as sleep and darkness extends a hand, I take it.

•

"Amalia?" My fathers distant voice reaches my ears, and I slowly peel my eyes open. He knocks on my bedroom door, and it takes me a moment to remember that I locked it. "Sweetheart, can you open the door for me?"

I rub my eyes as I climb out of bed and make my way over to the door, unlocking the door and opening it. As soon as my father sees me, his expression morphs into one of relief.

"I'm sorry, baby, were you sleeping?" He asks, voice soft.

I nod.

"Okay. I need you to keep the door unlocked while you're asleep, alright? I need to be able to get to you if something happens." At my slightly worried expression, he adds, "not that it will. But just in case. You can keep it locked when you're awake, if you'd like."

I nod again.

He smiles. "Alright." He glances down quickly, but his eyes linger on something, his face paling. I follow his gaze down to my arm before hiding it behind my back. When he looks back at me, I suddenly have the urge to close the door on him and never leave my bedroom again.

     When my father talks, however, his voice is soft. Sad, almost.

     "Let's get new bandages over that, yeah?" He questions. I look up from the floor and at him, expecting to see anger or disappointment in his eyes, but there isn't. He looks.. like he feels bad for me. And I don't like that; I don't need anybody's pity.

     He gently takes my hand and leads me out into the hallway, then down the stairs and inside his study. I don't look at him as he sits me down on his chair and pulls his drawer open, grabbing the bandages before crouching in front of me. He takes my arm in his hands and slowly begins to wrap the bandage around it, starting at the top then slowly working his way down to my wrist.

When he's finished, he looks up at me with an emotion I can't name gleaming in his eyes. "Next time you feel like you want to do that," he says quietly. Carefully. "I need you to come to me, okay? I need you to find me, or Elijah, or Grayson, or any one of your brothers, and try, in whatever way you want, to tell us how you're feeling." His voice breaks slightly as he adds, "we'll do whatever we can to help you, baby, I promise." He takes my hand and squeezes it. "I don't want you hurting yourself, Amalia. I know you may think you deserve it, but you are the last person on this entire earth who does."

     I shake my head, eyes watering. I'm the first person who does. I deserve it, and—

I don't realise I'm crying until my father wipes a tear off my cheek with the pad of his thumb. I look down immediately, embarrassed, but he just holds onto my hand and says, voice soft as snow, "it'll be okay, sweetheart."

I don't try to hold back my tears anymore; they're becoming more powerful and more desperate to shed. So I cry, and my father wraps his strong arms around me and pulls me to him, wrapping me in a hug that makes me feel safe and protected and nice. Makes me feel like maybe it all really will be fine. No one has ever been this kind to me before, apart from Elijah, I suppose.

I sob into his shirt until I have no tears left, but even when my sniffles stop, he doesn't let me go, and I've never been more grateful to anybody.

He begins to run his hands through my hair, then plants a kiss on my forehead before pulling back a little bit, only to look at me like I'm the cutest thing he's ever seen and engulf me in another hug. I lean my head on his shoulder as he continues to hold me.

• LORENZO •

Amalia doesn't try to stop me when I stand up, with her still bundled in my arms, and sit on my chair, folding her up on my lap. I only realise just now how truly small and light she is, so much so that it's concerning.

     I make a mental note to book a doctors appointment and continue to cuddle my daughter, taking advantage of every single second of it. I don't know when I'll be able to hold her again like I've wanted to everyday for the past nine or so years.

•

Amalia eats her food without looking up at me, shoving it away after only eating a few bites. I frown; there's still a lot left.

     "You're not hungry anymore?" I question softly. She snaps her head toward me and slowly shakes it, then looks down, beginning to play with the hem of her shirt. My expression softens as I urge myself to remember the phone call with the doctors.

     "Do you want something different?" I ask. She shakes her head again. "Okay." I say quietly. She looks like she'd rather be anywhere else, so I look to the door and ask, "do you want to go back to your bedroom, baby?"

     She nods. I smile. "Alright. I'll come make sure you're okay in a little bit."

     Amalia doesn't waste any time before climbing off her seat and walking out of the room. I watch her as she leaves, a frown settling onto my lips.

I sigh softly and make my way back into my study after cleaning up her plate. When I get there, I drop down into my chair and continue with the work I still have to finish from yesterday.