❝𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓'𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒓.❞
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There's a saying that one is entitled to keep whatever they find but the question is: can you always keep what you find?
Wren Ashenherst was raised as a boy and expected to live under the...
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his meaningless apologies
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I stood by the bed quietly, keeping my gaze on the person lying on it while subconsciously matching my breaths to the beeping of the machines that surrounded the bed. When I slid my eyes sideways, it was a chart that had my name on it — my name, Aleksander Illiades.
That was Eldrick's way to keep me in here, in this dismal pale-coloured room that was filled with nothing but life-sustaining machines and the heavy smell of disinfectants. Even when I was the one who could walk free from this space at the end of the day, I wasn't sure why the suffocating feeling of being trapped still pressed heavily against my chest.
Aillard.
The name had a bad taste in my mouth, a mixture of bitterness and something else totally. My hands closed instinctually into tight fists as I struggled constantly to suppress the anger that simmered in the depths of my heart. Closing my eyes, images of the night and my father haunted the darkness within my vision. I was finding it so hard to breathe but my doppelganger still rested against the pale sheets, unmoving in his own peace. The nauseating feeling grew, as I quickly strode out of the ward and slammed the door shut behind me.
Outside the ward, Jeremiah had been there all along to wait for me. He exhaled, "I said to not visit him, Alek."
I let out a dry laugh, trying to catch a breath amidst the growing anxiety that I was feeling. Jeremiah gripped me firmly by the arm to steady me and he pulled me to the nearest bench to settle in it. I held my head low, my hands clasped together tightly till my knuckles paled and my hands quivered by the force I was exerting. I cussed, "Darned it."
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