Never Let Go

Chapter 16

By the time the sun comes up the following morning, I've been awake for hours. The times I managed to doze off last night were few and far between; I probably only got a few minutes of sleep overall. The grief and sorrow are like anchors, pulling me down further into the nothingness that is my mind until I can't see the surface. All I can see is the king's cruel face; all I can hear are the hateful words, one after another, like daggers to my heart.

"'I did everything I could, Daniel. I tried my hardest to break Lauren—mind, body, and spirit. And it would have worked had she not married that immature prince. He saw through her title and into her soul. He saw all the broken pieces, trauma, and scars, yet he sought her out anyway.'"

There is something broken inside me—a near-invisible soul wound, one that nothing or no one can ever heal. He was wrong, I realize with bone-chilling clarity. It had worked; I'd managed to hide it so well that no one noticed—until Gwen.

"'You're just as weak as your father said.'" Whether she'd known in advance how much the words would affect me or she'd taken a shot in the dark, it didn't matter. That part of me—the part that was as weak, pathetic, and meek as she'd said—would always remain like a lingering wound or bruise.

How much of my past did she know about? Had he told her about everything—starting with my imprisonment at Moonbright and ending with my and Ethan's wedding? Or did he give her information as needed, enough for her to know where and when to strike? The thought of her knowing everything—the good, the bad, and the ugly—sends chills down my spine.

What if she hadn't stopped when Wyatt had restrained her? And what about my father? How much did he know—how much had Gwen told him? All those questions swirl around in my brain until I can't stand it.

As I slowly rise from the bed, I hear a soft, near-inaudible whimper. Allie clenches her eyes tight; her eyelids are white. She thrashes on the makeshift bed, a scream slipping past her lips, yet her eyes don't open. I quietly walk over to her, bending beside the couch. "Allie," I say softly.

My heart breaks as another moment passes, and she doesn't wake up—because I know what nightmare is playing in her head. Guilt punctures me like a dagger. I'd been so trapped in my head that I failed to recognize the trauma my sisters had been going through.

"Allie," I say again, gently touching her shoulder. Another scream slips past her lips; this time, her eyes fly open, filled with fear that takes my breath away. She looks around wildly, eyes unfocused and body trembling. When they finally focus on me, she lets out a sob.

"I s-saw her, Laur," she stammers, her face red and blotchy with tears. "I keep seeing her—there was s-so much b-blood. Why would he do that—how could he—" Her words trail off as she dissolves into tears.

No words can ever heal the agony inside her—no amount of replaying the moment can ever bring closure. I can do nothing to ease her pain because I'm feeling the same. Our mother was murdered right before us; for no reason other than to make us suffer. Make me suffer. Wordlessly, I wrap my arms around my sister, letting her release all the pent-up emotions inside her.

I can feel the agony inside her; it's identical to mine. My heart has been ripped out of my chest and shredded into pieces. Her sobs are gut-wrenching and heartbreaking. My eyes feel puffy and tight, yet all I feel inside is an endless void of nothingness.

I rise from where I'm crouched beside Allie without a word, the silence in my head almost overwhelming. My hands shake as I slip on my flats, but I walk calmly to the suite door. For the first time since I woke up, I realize that Ethan is not here. He must have slipped out early this morning.