Patient B-2

Chapter Forty-One: Cierien

The days have drifted by, yet Avalyn remains steadfast in her silence towards us. Her demeanor softens in Sophie's presence, holding a glimmer of anticipation that Sophie might speak to her. However, in our company, her expression transforms into one of simmering hostility, as though she harbors a readiness to unleash her fury.

There's something distinctly different about her. It's not a negative change, just... different. She exudes a quiet confidence now, shedding the cloak of timidity and anxiety that once enveloped her. At least, that's how it seems from the outside looking in. But oh, the mysteries that must be swirling within her mind. I find myself yearning for her to open up to us, to break the silence and share the thoughts she guards so closely. I would give anything to hear her voice, to understand what she's truly thinking.

However, I was foolish to entertain any other outcome. I painted an illusion in my mind, imagining she would greet us with joy, that we would liberate her from that cell and pledge to shield her forever. But reality shattered those fantasies. She doesn't crave our protection, nor does she require our salvation. She stands strong on her own, independent and resilient. She never needed us- that much has become painfully clear.

I'm a fool. Utterly foolish to have imagined she'd willingly return to us. I crafted a fairy tale of our love story, but reality is far from enchanted. Fairy tales don't exist, and what we have can scarcely be labeled a love story. There will be no rainbows or sunshine in our future. When she gazes upon us, all she'll see is the pain we caused, the scars we left behind. That truth will forever overshadow any glimmer of warmth between us.

What's even more painful is the presence of someone new: Aren Wellington. I wish I could summon hatred for him, but he's always been a gentle soul. Though, I guess he's not the boy I once knew. He's only three years younger than me, and he's matured into a man. Yet, that same giddy smile remains unchanged. His eyes still twinkle at the corners, and his words still flow endlessly. The only noticeable alteration is his white eye, an imperfection that, I begrudgingly admit, adds to his beauty.

It's almost infuriating how effortlessly good he is. I find myself resenting his goodness because, selfishly, I want Avalyn for myself- for both Wrath and me. He clings to her as though she's his possession. Wherever she goes, he's not far behind. There's never a chance for me to have a moment alone with her, even if she were willing. He's become so ingrained in her life, almost like an extension of her being. Sometimes, I wish Idalia would intervene, make a scene to separate them. But deep down, I know it would be futile. Even she seems to be starting to understand the impossibility of tearing them apart.

Avalyn has reclaimed her own space, displacing us from her room and leaving us resigned to the couch. She extended the offer to Sophie, but Sophie remains entrenched in her anger, despite their recent reconciliation and mutual understanding.

Every night, I witness Aren emerging from Idalia's room, making his way to join Avalyn in hers. I find myself straining to eavesdrop, listening intently, but all I hear is the hum of Avalyn's large fan, drowning out any discernible noise. I try not to dwell on what might be happening behind those closed doors, though logic tells me it's probably nothing, especially with everyone else in such close proximity.

Envy gnaws at me relentlessly. I'm consumed by it- consumed by the ache of longing. It should be me in there every night, embracing her, with Wrath by my side. We should have her nestled between us now. Instead, she's confined to her room with a man who is neither Wrath nor me.

I should kill him.

The thought has crossed my mind more times than I care to admit. I've entertained the idea, contemplating the methods and weighing the consequences. But the truth is, there's no way to execute such an act without inflicting pain upon Avalyn. Any attempt would only lead to her anguish or retaliation from either her or Idalia.