The Atham Manor (Slow Updates)

Hurt, Memories & Mistakes

AN- Ya'll, I'm so sorry. Genuinely. Angst- just pure angst. 😃

The brothers were still arguing.

Just hours after I got home, I found out why they were acting so weird and why my brain ached like I had a concussion. My boyfriends had removed weeks of my memories just before I'd left for dinner so I could meet with Adaline and Robert Atham without tipping the pair off that the brothers would be listening in through the ginger guy.

I told them what Arthur had told me and nothing else. I didn't tell them about Adaline's promise to bring back my family's memories or the possibility of Warren and Henry being unstable. I didn't know if I could handle any more lies or truths from anyone. Either option felt like too much and I just wanted to sleep.

With ease I didn't know I could muster, I skimmed over or completely omitted every occasional dig for specifics. I pushed down my worries and fears and made forgetting to ask easy for them.

It also helped that so much happened afterward. Calvin's cousin Alexander came in sometime after to return my memories to me. All I remembered was promptly passing out after his fingers touched my temples. When I woke up, it was quickly discovered that something had gone awry. Warren, who seemed most adverse to the plan, looked nearly murderous.

Since then, they've been arguing and they weren't exactly being quiet. I could hear their voices raising, Alastair's quieter one admitting that he'd "done all he could do" and that "the brain was fickle and easily broken". He didn't deem it safe to attempt to restore my memories repeatedly. They were on a time limit of twenty-four hours before the memories were lost forever, so Alastair stayed and tried his powers on me again and again, but nothing returned.

We'd passed twenty-four hours four days ago.

I didn't know how to feel about it. On one hand, I was angry, and rightfully so. I'd lost weeks' worth of memories for a single dinner that, for all intents and purposes, didn't need to be as serious as it was. I didn't know if they'd talked to me about the plan before they went ahead and wiped my memories, but it didn't sound like something I would've readily agreed to had I been given several days to decide. Was I even given an option? Couldn't remember.

The other part of me just felt confused and betrayed. The men who I'd come to love were liars and now it was clear I'd been dickmatized. It was depressing. I was ready to rot in my sheets until I died rather than face them, but unfortunately, they never left me alone long enough to achieve that. They would come in, comfort, and generally just take care of me until the continuous movement prevented my internal decomposition from becoming a reality.

I kept turning down any intimate acts other than an infrequent kiss. It all felt empty to me now.

The door to my room opened and I jolted before relaxing. Calvin. I was glad it wasn't Henry or Warren. I couldn't stop thinking about their mother and what that spelled for the boys' psyche. I couldn't help seeing them as ticking time bombs ready to detonate at any given second.

"Jesus, stop jumping like that, you're gonna freak me out," he laughed lightly before his smile dropped and he moved to my side. "I'm so sorry, bunny, I never thought..." He stopped himself and looked away, but I felt guilt surging through me from his mark. He had been the one to suggest the reversal of my memories as an option. I didn't try to comfort him, finding the hem of my blanket much more interesting.

Calvin turned to me, taking my chin, and looking at me seriously. "Are you sure that you're okay?"

I nodded even though I should've been the one asking that question to him. Only two days prior, he was lying in a cot unconscious and it was my fault.

I was eating watery soup, my stomach too sensitive for anything else while Calvin was scrolling on his phone, face placid as usual when he was focused. There was a lead found. A Pureblood vampire had given up a location anonymously, and it had taken all of their time. It was why I hadn't seen them much in the two days following dinner— a small mercy.