Lost in Hollywood

True Love

Sky lay on her bed, curled into a ball, hugging her knees against her chest.

She was still wearing the clothes that were soaked in Cody's blood, and the thick, heavy scent of iron filled the room, turning Nicholas' stomach. He had tried everything, but Sky had thrown herself into her bed and simply refused to change her clothes, take a shower, or even wash her hands—

As if she was clinging to Cody with all she had, clinging to what was left of him.

Nicholas' chest was collapsing, there wasn't enough air in this room. Sky's silence was suffocating - the only sounds that left her lips were ghost-like, desperate wails, but she hadn't uttered a word since Cody had died. Not one word. It was just like when Kat had died—

Nicholas shoved away that thought. He couldn't think about Kat now, or how Sky had been after her death. He didn't want to remember the horrible weeks and months that had followed, her silence, her tears, the day when she had tried to kill herself the first time.

But those thoughts slithered into his head nevertheless, memories he couldn't run away from. He was painfully aware of the fact that this kind of death always had a long and bloody trail. Violent death was like an infection, it spread like a sickness and all too easily caused more violent deaths.

And Sky hadn't lost just Cody, but Luke too— only a couple of weeks apart—

Devastating. Her pain cut through Nicholas' chest like a dagger, drawing all strength out of him. How could Sky pull herself together after this? How could anyone?

Nicholas would have given anything for Sky to be small again, for her troubles to be small too. He wished he was able to go back in time, to the days when he knew how to comfort her, how to keep her safe. The ache inside of his chest was tearing him apart. He wanted to hold his daughter, to tell her it was going to be okay, to convince her that there were no monsters under the bed, nothing to be feared in the darkness— but Sky had pushed him away as soon as they had gotten home. Pushed him away, and shoved away his hands, she had curled up into a ball without saying a word, but every cell of her tense body screamed leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone!

Nicholas sat on the bed next to her, feeling Sky's agony in his bones. When they had gotten home, she had been crying so hard that she had vomited in the kitchen sink, and still, she was trembling, her breathing was shallow, strained, gurgling.

If only he could help her somehow. If only they still had the meds she had used for her PTSD episodes and panic attacks, the small, white pills that always took away her demons and let her sleep, but—

There were no drugs in the house. There hadn't been since she'd gone to rehab, and Nicholas had thought it was the right decision, but— now he wasn't so sure. An awful, gnawing feeling twisted his gut -  he suspected that Sky wouldn't get through this with just yoga and breathing exercises. He feared what she might do if she had to carry all that pain within her skin for days, weeks, months.

I have to call a doctor. She needs help—

But what were the doctors going to do? Give her more pills? A new wave of hopelessness hit Nicholas. He had seen where that road led but what choice did he have? God— he wished he knew what to do, but he had never felt this helpless in his life. His usual remedy to everything was a cup of hot chocolate and a Star Trek -movie, but even suggesting them right now felt impossible.

We never should have moved here. Everything's gone to Hell since we came to the Valley.

That thought was sudden and heavy, the taste of regret was sharp on his lips. He had thought this would be a fresh start for Sky, for the both of them, that here amongst people who didn't know what had happened to her, Sky would get a chance to heal. But now— things were worse than they had ever been, and Nicholas could only blame himself.