Lost Souls

Chapter 12

Unsurprisingly, sleep didn't come quickly for me that night. I lay awake for hours, unable to banish Ani's parting words from my mind. "'Who are you going to be, Drew?'" It was a question I'd been asking myself since Faye's death but hadn't fully let myself contemplate.

For so long, I'd defined myself by how others had seen me—brother, son, friend, cometball player—that I'd forgotten what it felt like just to be me. Drew Ryan Mercer. Ani's earlier statement resurfaced alongside her parting words, bringing a strange mixture of comfort and regret. "'If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that we're not responsible for the actions of our parents. We decide who we are and what we're going to be. No one else.'"

I recalled what she'd said about her aunt's murder—how Jacob had been responsible. The tears that had fallen down her cheeks as she'd revealed that piece of her past, how the sight of them had felt like someone had punched me in the gut. Even though I didn't know her then, it still stung to learn that he'd been the cause of such pain and grief for her and her family.

I turned on my side, looking out the nearest window into the night-dark waters. After a few minutes, it became clear that sleep wasn't a possibility. Selfish as it sounded, I wished that Ani was here—wished I could see her face as I apologized again for the tears that had appeared the last time we'd spoken. Silently, I got out of bed and swam to the door of my suite, opening it without a sound.

As soon as I crossed the threshold into the hallway, I was moving—tearing through the hallways and down stairways, trying to outswim the grief, shame, and guilt that threatened to consume me with every breath. I was gasping for water, trying to breathe through the weight pressing on my chest, squeezing the water from my lungs.

Sweat poured down my face, and my heart beat a million miles a minute. It wasn't just Ani's words that swirled around in my head, creating a ball of shame and guilt in my stomach—I heard Faye and Ella's voices alongside the former's.

"'We were waiting for our big brother to save us. Why didn't you save us, Drew?'" When the front doors of the entryway came into view, I hurtled toward them, all but smashing through them in my haste to get outside. Fresh water caressed my sticky face as I panted, squeezing my eyes shut.

I wasn't sure how long I floated there, my breathing ragged and uneven, but I whirled around when I felt a hand gently touch my shoulder. Dad's eyes were wide as they flicked from my face to my tail. He didn't say anything, but I could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew what I was going through. "I hear them," I whispered, the words full of years' worth of pain and regret.

"Every night, every time I close my eyes—I can't escape them. It was my fault," I breathed, my voice breaking as tears slid down my cheeks. "I should have been faster, should have anticipated the attacks before they happened. My sisters are dead because of me." The words echoed off the rocks surrounding the palace: pent-up grief, remorse, and regret coming to the surface.

I heard Dad's sharp intake of breath but didn't look up until I felt him gently grip my shoulders. His gaze was intent on mine, filled with an emotion I couldn't place. When he spoke, that same nameless emotion choked his voice.

"The day Bella and I adopted you and Faye was the happiest day of our lives. But also the saddest. We had been cloistered in the infirmary not even an hour before we finalized the adoption because Bella had experienced severe abdomen pains the night before. Enough so that she'd been up most of the night, sweating through bouts of nausea and dizziness.

"I took one look at the doctor's face after he returned with the test results and felt as if someone had punched me in the gut. All the water had disappeared from my lungs in a rush like someone had been choking me. Unbeknownst to me or even Bella herself, our father had injured her enough in one of his numerous attacks that he'd ruptured her pelvis, nearly killing her in the process. We found out later the damage was significant enough that even trying for children would result in countless miscarriages—not to mention the emotional distress that would follow."