WHISPERS OF LOVE

6.Emma

🎧 Listen to 🎵Unsteady by X Ambassadors 🎶

***

Twenty-one days. That's how long I've been locked up in this estate. Three weeks.

I don't hate it as much as I first did.

Even though I felt like dying when Max talked to me the way he did, he was right. My life was miserable. I'm a little calmer and more relaxed here.

Not happy.

Calm and relaxed. Huge difference.

I spend most of my days and nights in the art room drawing, reading in the library, or daydreaming in the garden. Right now, I'm in the art room.

It's been a while since I've painted. I almost forgot how good it makes me feel.

As I delicately guide my brush across the canvas, seeking solace in the strokes of creativity, I can't help but notice how quiet it is. Max said he'll be out the whole day today, so it's just me.

I've hardly talked to him. He has been trying to communicate, but my hard-headedness doesn't allow me to let him in that easily.

As I continue painting, an unexpected interruption shatters the tranquil ambiance. Abruptly, the lights flicker and succumb to darkness, plunging the room into an abyss.

A blackout.

Darkness fills the whole art room, and my body goes still. The brush falls to the floor, its echo reminding me I'm all alone.

The sudden blackout triggers a visceral reaction within me, stirring memories of childhood traumas I had fought to suppress. The oppressive blackness, reminiscent of the cabinets where my mother confined me when I was young, becomes an overwhelming force, paralyzing me in the present.

It was a common punishment in our household, one that had been reserved only for me. Being locked up in the tiny kitchen cabinets was nothing new. It was a form of punishment when I had frustrated my mother even a little.

Trying to block the memories, I cover my ears with my hands and crouch to the floor. The air starts to feel heavy, and my breaths quicken. The weight of past horrors presses upon me, and the artistic haven that once offered solace now feels like a trap.

The grey sweatshorts and sweatshirt I once felt comfortable in start to feel like they're squeezing the life out of me.

A wave of panic crashes over me, my trembling hands struggling to maintain control. Tears stream down my face, a manifestation of the vulnerability that the encroaching darkness has unearthed.

I hated this. The sudden darkness.

In a multi-billion-dollar estate, shouldn't it have a backup generator ?

In the absence of Max, I knew I had to grapple with my fear alone. The isolation intensified my distress, the echoes of my past blending with the stark reality of the blackout. Each moment stretched into an eternity, amplifying the silent screams of my traumatic history.

As I crumbled under the weight of my childhood ghosts, the art room transformed from a sanctuary to a haunting battleground. My childhood home.

The canvases, once a source of empowerment, now bore witness to a raw and unfiltered breakdown, a confrontation with the shadows that lingered within. The blackout not only extinguished the lights but also unraveled the carefully woven threads of composure I had constructed.

Alone in the art room, I confronted the darkness within and without, wrestling with the ghosts of my past and the present uncertainties that coalesced in the void. The next thing I know is I'm being pulled into the dark as consciousness leaves me.

****

Emma...

There's only one person who calls my name with such delicateness and gentleness, making the word "Emma" become more than just a name; it becomes a soft reassurance, a whispered promise that in the midst of the chaos, there's someone who cares enough to say it just right.

Max.

I slowly open my eyes to find myself in the dimly lit room, the shadows still clinging to the aftermath of the blackout. Max is here, his concerned gaze meeting mine.

I never knew there would be a time when I'd be so relieved and happy to see his amber eyes.

"Emma, are you okay?" he asks, his voice a soothing balm in the lingering darkness.

Looking around, I see we're still in the art room, dimly lit by the light coming from Max's phone. Confusion clouds my mind, the recent breakdown still fresh.

"What happened?" he gently asks, helping me sit up.

Not being able to say anything, Max continues talking.

"I came back and found you passed out here, in the art room. Are you hurt?" he asks, checking me for any wounds.

As I attempt to make myself comfortable on the cold mahogany floor, a dull ache pulses in my head.

"I don't know. Everything went dark, and I..." My voice trails off as the memories of the blackout flood back. Max's expression softens, understanding the impact it had on me. "I'm sorry. I should have been here," he says.

Max helps me stand, and a wave of dizziness washes over me. "You were scared. I found you like that, covering your ears."

I know that right now he has concluded that I'm probably crazy.

I nod, the vulnerability of the moment sinking in. "It brought back memories from my past. I wasn't prepared."

Max takes a deep breath, remorse in his gaze. "I didn't know. I should've been more considerate. I'm truly sorry, Emma."

His apology sounds genuine.

I give him a small smile, appreciating his sincerity. The smile doesn't reach my eyes, but at least I'm giving him something.

He nods but hesitates, the darkness still enveloping us. "The lights aren't back yet," he says, as if suggesting something, and he does.

"Why don't you spend the night with me?" The request catches both of us off guard.

I don't say anything, and Max carries on talking.

"The blackout was caused by a sudden power outage due to a fault in the main electrical grid supplying the property. This unforeseen issue disrupted the regular power supply, resulting in a temporary loss of electricity throughout the estate. My electrician said he'll be here tomorrow morning, so I guess we'll be in the darkness the whole night."

I nod in response, and that brings a smile to Max's illuminated face.

He gently lifts me into his arms, carrying me to his room. The shadows dance around us as he sets me down on the bed, the dim light casting a soft glow. Max stays nearby, a silent guardian in the night, and for the first time in weeks, I feel a sense of solace in his presence.