Unrequited

Chapter 12

The comforting aroma of... well, it was on the tip of my tongue, a warm hug of familiarity that Mom always conjured up. But the scent didn't quite reach its usual soothing effect. As I stepped through the doorway, her voice, usually lilting like wind chimes, was a strained whisper, "Olly..."

My smile, wide and genuine, faltered the moment I met her gaze. Her face, etched with worry, was a landscape of crumpled worry lines. "Mom? What's wrong? Everything's okay, right?" My voice, usually carefree, cracked with concern.

"Harry... he had an accident," the words tumbled out, each one a heavy stone dropping into the pit of my stomach.

My breath hitched, vision blurring for a split second. "Accident?" My voice, a mere echo, struggled to comprehend. "What do you mean? It's... it's a joke, right?" The syllables stumbled over each other, my mind refusing to accept what her next words might be.

Silence. A deafening, suffocating silence. The scent, now cloying and heavy, did nothing to ease the rising panic. I couldn't hear her anymore, the world muted except for the frantic thudding of my own heart. I knew, with a bone-chilling certainty, that it wasn't just an accident. He wouldn't joke like this.

"No... no... no..." The word, a desperate denial, echoed in my head. My legs, on autopilot, propelled me back towards the door, my hand reaching out for the familiar comfort of the car keys.

He couldn't do this. Not to himself, not to us. I had to get there, had to stop him, whatever it took.

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Darkness clung to the edges of my vision, a veil slowly lifted by the insistent throb in my head. Each attempt to open my eyes felt like cracking open a geode, shards of pain erupting with the light. Finally, blurry shapes coalesced into the familiar ceiling of my room in the villa. Turning my head was an exercise in agony, and a low growl escaped my lips before I could manage it.

The world swam into focus, the sterile white of the villa standing in stark contrast to the pulsating darkness behind my eyelids. My body felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool, heavy and unresponsive. Reaching for the lamp switch was a Sisyphean task, each movement rewarded with a fresh wave of nausea.

"Ughh, I hate it," I groaned, the words slurred like pebbles rolling in a dryer.

My head was a warzone, the aftermath of another battle with my unwelcome companion... Each seizure left me feeling like a shipwrecked sailor, washed ashore on the barren island of my own body.

Ash's familiar face materialized beside me, her eyes pools of concern that I hated to see reflected in my own. I knew I was a sorry sight, weak and vulnerable, but what could I do? This was the price I paid, the grim toll for a borrowed normality.

"Olly... Are you okay? Is it hurting bad? Do I call the doctor? Did you take your meds? How did this happen if you took? Or did you not? Don't tell me you didn't take your meds you know Olly you can't skip them. It's your health that is at risk. You should-... "

Her voice was a torrent of questions, a dam finally breaking after the fear bottled up inside her. I cut her off, my voice raspy.

"I took my meds on time, mama... it's just... I was stressed a little... and the rest you already know."

My head throbbed with each word, a traitor reminding me of my failings. Ash's gaze, usually warm and welcoming, was now a chilling mix of disapproval and worry. My bravado evaporated under the weight of her silent scrutiny, and I burrowed deeper into the covers, seeking solace in the darkness.

As sleep beckoned me back into its inky embrace, I heard the click of the door and the murmur of another voice.

His!...

 Relief washed over me, and I surrendered to oblivion, the rhythmic hum of his presence a lifeline in the storm of my aching.

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The air in the villa felt heavy, laced with unspoken tension. Everyone tried to act normal, pretending like the day hadn't been shattered, but the forced smiles and strained conversations couldn't mask the truth. I was the storm that had swept through their sunny vacation, the guilt gnawing at me like a hungry beast.

Turning away from the forced merriment, I sought refuge in my phone, ordering pizza and ice cream – comfort food for a shattered soul. As I placed my order, I glanced back at the group. Dark circles hung beneath Cade's eyes, Ash's usually vibrant smile was a ghost of its former self, and Kenneth seemed a foot shorter under the weight of worry. My heart ached for them.

The escape fantasy tugged at me again. If only I could vanish, leave this suffocating pity behind. But the voice in my head, loyal as ever, reminded me of my purpose: Ash. I'd stay, be her rock until she found her happily ever after.

Except, Lawrence was nowhere to be seen. Talia clung to Kenneth like a barnacle, her happiness a stark contrast to my misery. Megan, ever the friend, stood beside Cade, her gaze a well of concern. Even the usually carefree faces held shadows of worry.

Last night's seizure had been a close call. The water had masked the tremors, allowing me to pass it off as a panic attack. 

The pity in their eyes was the worst. It clung to me like cobwebs, suffocating me with its uselessness. I slammed my phone on the nightstand, the noise making them jump.

"I'm closing my eyes for a few minutes," I hissed, my voice tight with exhaustion and frustration. "When I open them, I want this room empty. One person left, and I'm out of here. I'll ruin the rest of the trip and disappear faster than you can say 'beach vacation'."

My outburst shattered the fragile peace, their gazes shifting from worried to startled. But I didn't care. All I wanted was space to breathe, to escape the suffocating well of pity that threatened to drown me.

"Leave. Now," I commanded, my voice a whip cracking through the silence.

They hesitated, their eyes wide with a mix of concern and something I couldn't decipher. But finally, they turned, their footsteps retreating like waves receding from the shore.

Alone at last, I lay back on the bed, the silence a welcome balm. London, with its familiar chaos, suddenly seemed like a haven. Anything but this suffocating pity.