My brothers best friend

Chapter 22: Healing in the Wake of Violence

Chapter 22

Author's Point of View

The fluorescent lights overhead hummed faintly, casting an unflattering light across the sterile waiting room. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and stale coffee, mingling with the faint murmur of distant conversations and the quiet rustle of people shifting in their uncomfortable plastic chairs. The room seemed suspended in a bubble of anxiety, the seconds dragging into minutes, the minutes into hours. Time felt irrelevant when all anyone wanted was an answer.

Jake paced restlessly, the soles of his shoes squeaking against the tiled floor. His chest was tight, every breath labored as his mind replayed the events over and over like a broken record. The sound of Valerie's body hitting the floor, the shock on her face as Jonathan's fist collided with her cheek—it was etched into his memory, sharp and unforgiving. He hadn't been there. He hadn't stopped it. And now Valerie was lying on a hospital bed, bruised and battered, because of him.

"I should've seen it coming," he muttered under his breath, his fingers raking through his hair for the hundredth time. He was unraveling, his guilt suffocating him, but he didn't know how to stop it.

"Jake." Viktoria's voice was soft but firm, grounding him for just a moment. She sat with perfect posture, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her expression was calm, composed, but her eyes betrayed her worry. She had always been the one to keep her cool, but even she couldn't entirely suppress the fear clawing at her insides. "Pacing won't help Valerie. You're going to wear a hole in the floor."

Jake froze mid-step, turning to face her. "What else am I supposed to do, Viktoria? Just sit here? Pretend I'm not the reason she's in there?"

"She's in there because Jonathan is a monster," Viktoria replied sharply, her calm veneer cracking for a moment. "And because Valerie chose to protect Amelia. That's not on you."

Jake let out a frustrated sigh, his shoulders slumping. He didn't have the energy to argue, even though her words felt like absolution he didn't deserve. He sank into a chair beside Viktoria, his leg bouncing restlessly as his guilt continued to gnaw at him.

Across the room, Amelia sat with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her face pale and drawn. She hadn't spoken much since they arrived at the hospital, too consumed by her own guilt. The memory of Valerie stepping between her and Jonathan, taking the hit meant for her, was a weight she didn't know how to bear.

"This is my fault," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "If I hadn't..."

"It's not your fault and it isn't Jake's fault," Viktoria said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Jonathan's actions are on him, not you. Valerie made her choice. Now, the best thing we all can do is be there for her."

Amelia nodded numbly, but the guilt didn't ease. She couldn't help but feel like an outsider, someone who had brought chaos into Valerie's life and left her hurt in the process. She wanted to apologize, to explain, but the words felt hollow in her throat.

The waiting room fell silent again, the tension thick in the air. Mason sat in the corner, his head bowed and his hands clasped tightly together. He hadn't spoken at all, his face a mask of quiet torment. As Valerie's brother, he had always felt a responsibility to protect her, to look out for her. But he hadn't been there when she needed him. He hadn't been able to protect her from Jonathan's rage, and now the sight of her battered face haunted him.

The door to the ER finally opened, and a doctor stepped into the waiting room. The group immediately straightened, their gazes fixed on him.

"She's stable," he said, his voice calm but professional. "She's been moved to a private room and is starting to regain consciousness. You can see her now, but don't overwhelm her. She needs rest."