Bound by Honour [Part I & II]

12

CAMERONS POV

I leaned against the wall outside Maisie's door, staring at the wood like it was the hardest thing in the world to walk away from. It had been hours since the sun had come up and Maisie hadn't come out for breakfast. We knew she was in there because Sebastian had went in and checked. My chest felt tight, the weight of what I'd said crushing me from the inside. I'd hurt her—again. No matter how many times I told myself I was doing my best, that I was trying to protect her, I kept screwing it up.

I fucked up.

What kind of brother tells his sister she's just a shell of a person? What kind of brother looks into her eyes, sees her pain, and makes it worse?

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms as I replayed the moment over and over in my head. Her face, the way her eyes had dimmed like I'd just snuffed out the last bit of light she had left. God, I could see it even now, haunting me. How could I have been so cruel?

I couldn't shake the image of her retreating into herself, curling up on that bed like she was trying to disappear. That look on her face—like she'd already given up, like she'd decided there was nothing left to fight for—ripped me apart. I did that to her. I put that look in her eyes.

I wanted to punch something, anything, to let out the anger boiling inside me, but I knew it wouldn't help. It wouldn't change the fact that I'd failed her, that I'd said the one thing I never should have said.

The words echoed in my head, taunting me, reminding me of how low I'd sunk. I'd let my frustration, my fear, get the better of me, and now she was the one paying the price.

I'm supposed to protect her, I thought bitterly, the guilt gnawing at my insides. I'm supposed to keep her safe, not drive her deeper into the darkness.

But how could I protect her from this? How could I pull her back when I was the one who kept pushing her away? I'd thought I was helping, thought I was doing what needed to be done, but all I'd done was make things worse.

She wouldn't even look at me now, wouldn't give me the time of day. I didn't blame her. If I were her, I wouldn't want to see my face either.

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the tension in my muscles, the helplessness creeping in. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to fix this?

But the truth was, I didn't know if I could. I didn't know if there was anything I could say that would make this right. Not after what I'd said, not after the way I'd hurt her.

The door to her room was still closed, and I could hear the faint sound of her crying inside. Each sob felt like a knife to my heart, a reminder of how badly I'd messed up. I wanted to go back in there, to hold her, to tell her I was sorry, but I knew she wouldn't let me. Not now.

And maybe she was right to shut me out. Maybe I didn't deserve to be the one she turned to, not after what I'd done.

I pushed off the wall, feeling the weight of my own guilt pressing down on me as I walked away. I didn't know where I was going, just that I couldn't stay here, listening to her cry and knowing I was the cause of it.

But as I walked down the hallway, one thought kept repeating in my mind, over and over again:

I have to fix this. I have to make it right.

But how? How could I ever make up for what I'd said? How could I ever earn back her trust after I'd shattered it?

I didn't have the answers, but I knew one thing for sure: I wasn't going to give up. No matter how many times I messed up, no matter how many times I hurt her, I wasn't going to stop trying. She was my sister, and I loved her more than anything in this world.