Hidden Away

Thirty-Five: Actions and Consequences

It feels so good being back with another update for you guys! This one is kind of short just because I've been incredibly busy lately, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. This chapter is 2500 words!

Saying goodbye was never something I thought I would have to get used to. Usually, the type of goodbyes I say are never permanent. I'd always reunite with them one way or another. I'd make sure of it.

But this time is different. There isn't anything I can do to bring my parents back from death's clutches. I can scream, cry, and beg, but nothing I do will bring them back. All that's left of them is their legacies. My father's isn't too good. He'll be remembered as the cruel Alpha of the Bloodmoon pack who hurt, tortured, and killed anyone who dared defy him in any way. Someone who hurt his mate because he feared what she was. Someone who tried to turn his life around for his children and do good, but failed before he got the chance to achieve that. My mother will be remembered as the girl that everyone feared because she couldn't control her powers. The girl who —despite everything her mate did to her— still managed to find a way to love him and create a life with him. All they ever wanted was to be happy. And they had their wish for a split second before their lives were ripped away from them.

Now, as each casket is lowered into the ground simultaneously, all I feel is a weight on my shoulders and in my head. I want to burst into tears and rip their caskets open so I can look at them one last time. My brother, who is standing next to me, senses the overwhelming feelings within me, because he squeezes my hand. It feels like a hug. It tells me everything he wants to tell me, but can't find the courage to say it. Every word of encouragement is felt through that squeeze, and I don't know how to explain it, but it's much better than all the words he could muster up and tell me that won't ever make me feel better.

Afterwards, everyone leaves and Rowan lets me have some time to myself by our parents' graves. I sit beside them since the dirt needs to settle and stare at the engraved stone slab sitting where their headstones will be placed once they're finished being made. For moments on end, I just stare. I don't know what to say or even think. My thoughts are circling around my head like a tornado. In the midst of the cloud of thoughts is the picture of the very recent and fresh memory. The memory of me finding my mother lying on the ground in a pool of her own blood. The haunting image of her last few breaths being taken will be with me for the rest of my life.

Tears should be flowing, but my eyes are tired—I'm tired. I'm tired of crying. I'm tired of fighting these battles, both against myself and against the Destroyers. I'm tired of watching everyone I care about getting hurt or dying because of me. I'm tired of putting people in danger because of something that doesn't involve anyone but me and the crown. I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of everything. I'm tired, and the worst part is that my parents' deaths aren't going to be the end of this. I have to continue fighting this war until it's over. And I have absolutely no idea when it will end.

Evan joins me after a long, silent while of being alone. He sits by me and grips my left shoulder, pulling me to him. My head rests on his chest and my eyes close as his hand travels up and down my arm, trying his best to comfort me. "I know it's insanely hard and I can't even begin to imagine how you feel right now," he mutters lowly, placing a kiss on the crown of my head,"But I'm here for you for whatever you need." The only thing that passes my lips is a low hum. I muster it up as both a source of acknowledgement and appreciation for him.

It is now that Evan squeezes me tight that the tears begin to well up in my eyes. Sad, angry, confused, and frustrated tears mix, creating a concoction of emotions that stream down my face. "I don't understand, I whisper, causing Evan to turn to me. I don't look up at him. The setting sun in front of us catches my attention. Hopefully my parents are the ones painting it for me. "I don't get it. What do they want from me?" Evan takes my hand and I squeeze it, putting all of my anger into it.