Regal [h.s]

Chapter Thirty

"What's going to be left of the world, if you're not in it?"

♔ ♔ ♔

Trigger warning: mentions of mental health topics.

Harry

Amalia wasn't okay. I knew right from the very beginning that she wasn't quite right. She carries this sadness that's hard to explain. She has a light as bright as the stars, but her eyes are so sad. She moves like she has weights hanging off of her and right from the get go I knew she wasn't okay.

But even more so now that her family have denied dropping her duties and title.

She really thought she was doing something yesterday. She thought she was making a difference and doing what was right.

I thought she was doing something. I thought she was making a stand but now it just feels like a slap round the face.

She's taking it to heart, as I think anyone would.

She's frantically searching through her notes through clouded eyes, barely able to see any of the words on the paper I'm sure, but she seems to be looking for something. Perhaps something she missed or something she was planning to mention, but didn't.

Frankie and I both stand in the door way, just watching as she breaks down before our very eyes.

We both know there's nothing we can do.

I spoke to Estelle and Taya early this morning, I asked for their advice on what we do now, because sitting around wasn't an option for Amalia. She was drowning under it all and I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep her afloat.

They could only share words of comfort with me after telling me to sit sight and just wait for the institution to make the next move. Which of course, was unlikely to be a positive move.

Marlie seemed to be fine when she awoke this morning, and then slowly but surely, she's been given the reminders of everything that has tumbled on top of her which now leads us to this mess.

"She needs help" Frankie looks at me with a frown of concern.

"I don't know what to do" I shake my head at her, watching on as Marlie reads through her notes.

"I think you've done all you can do" Frankie sighs, "I think she needs professional help now, I think you both do" she tells me.

Deep down I had always known that I needed some kind of professional intervention, I knew that my past trauma would come to haunt me eventually. But I never thought that Amalia's family would be the ones to drive me to some sort of councelling.