Rogue | outer banks

Flashback 11

We all crave moments of peace.

A time where everything just stops — no problems, no pain, no sadness. But here's the thing nobody tells you; those moments only last for about two seconds. Two seconds in which the world goes quiet and everything is perfect. And I've been chasing those two seconds ever since I lost my parents.

And then it happens. Your breath slows down, and with every exhale, it's like you're letting go of all the stress and worry. Everything in your body just stops — your lungs, your heart, your brain. It's like hitting pause on life. And you want to hold onto that feeling forever. But then, you start breathing again, bringing life back into your body.

And those two seconds? They feel like they never even happened.

But you repeat the cycle. On and on and on, just to feel that nothingness again. Two seconds that destroy your life. Over and over again.

I slowly opened my eyes, but the harsh lights assaulted my senses, prompting an immediate retreat into the comforting darkness.

"What the..." I muttered, the world spinning as if I'd been caught in a tumultuous storm. Attempting to gather my bearings, I dared to open my eyes once more, allowing them to squint against the intrusive brightness.

My heart pounded in my chest, an uncomfortable lump lodging itself in my throat as I surveyed the unfamiliar surroundings. The sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, and the mechanical beeping of the heart monitor became an unwelcome companion to my disoriented thoughts. I shifted my gaze downward, finding myself adorned in a hospital gown, a stark reminder of my vulnerability. A thin bracelet clasped around my wrist, its cold metal bearing the weight of my name, my identity reduced to a mere label in this environment.

Rallying the strength to lift myself from the pillow with a sigh, I cast a hesitant glance to my left, where Rafe sat, his large frame awkwardly slouched in a chair too small for him. His head rested in his hands as he slept, the weariness evident even in his unconscious state. The sight of him, vulnerable in his own way, stirred a mix of emotions within me. His loyalty, evident in the sacrifice of his own comfort for my sake, tugged at my fractured heart. Tears welled up, threatening to overflow as I allowed the weight of my own actions to bear down on me.

The consequences of my recklessness manifested in the hospital room, a tangible testament to the chaos I had unleashed upon myself and the people dear to me.

Leaning back, I let my head rest on the cool pillow, the floodgates of remorse opening wide. The salty streams traced the contours of my face, silent witnesses to the self-loathing that coursed through me. In the quiet of the hospital room, I grappled with the harsh reality of my actions, the pain both physical and emotional intertwining in a relentless dance.

I had crossed the line and I hated myself for it.

A stifled sob escaped my lips, and I cursed myself for not being able to keep it in check, especially when I sensed Rafe stirring in his chair. His voice, soft and uncertain, reached my ears, uttering my name with a concern that sliced through the heavy air.

"Amelia?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, a feeble attempt to shield myself from the judgment and sympathy that I knew would accompany his gaze. I couldn't face him, couldn't bear the weight of his eyes on me.

"Amelia, what's wrong?" His voice approached, drawing nearer with each step. I wished he would retreat, hoped he might return to the comforting embrace of sleep. But he persisted, and soon his presence loomed over the bed.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, the words barely audible through the lump in my throat. My tears blurred the image of Rafe, turning him into a hazy silhouette against the sterile hospital backdrop. "I'm so sorry."