Fashioned For Sin

Chapter 24

Blair

The sun was just starting to rise, casting a soft glow through the curtains of Leonardo's guest room. I blinked against the light, my body stiff and aching from a restless sleep. The events of the past few days played over and over in my mind like a broken record, each memory more painful than the last. I felt like I was floating outside myself, disconnected from reality, from this life that was once mine.

I shifted slightly, feeling the throbbing pain in my ankle, now wrapped tightly in a bandage. The doctors at the hospital said it wasn't broken, just badly sprained. "Lucky," they'd called me, though I didn't feel very lucky.

My whole body ached from being on edge, muscles clenched from months of captivity. I was free, but the fear still gripped me like a vice, holding me in place, unable to move forward.

I glanced around the room, my gaze settling on the door where Leonardo had stood watch most of the night, making sure I was safe. He was gone now-probably in the kitchen, making coffee or something equally domestic, something to keep himself busy while I unravelled. The thought of coffee made my stomach turn, but I knew I needed to eat, needed to do something to feel alive again.

I forced myself to sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, wincing as my ankle protested. The simple act of moving felt monumental, every part of me screaming to just stay in bed, to hide from the world. But I couldn't hide forever.

Leonardo appeared in the doorway, holding a tray with a steaming mug of coffee and a plate of toast. His expression softened when he saw me awake. "Hey," he said gently, stepping inside. "I made you some breakfast."

I nodded, unable to muster the energy for words. He set the tray down on the small table beside the bed and sat on the edge, watching me carefully. His presence was comforting, a small anchor in a world that had become terrifyingly unsteady.

"Thanks," I whispered, reaching for the coffee. My hands were shaking, and I almost spilt it, but Leonardo steadied my grip, his hand warm over mine.

"Take it slow," he said softly. "There's no rush."

But there was a rush. I could feel it deep inside, a desperate need to do something, to reclaim my life, to prove that I wasn't broken beyond repair. I took a sip of the coffee, the bitter taste familiar and grounding. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the warmth spreading through me, a small comfort in a sea of chaos.

"I want to go home, actually," I said finally, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Leonardo looked at me, his brow furrowed. "Blair, are you sure? The doctors said-"

"I know what they said," I interrupted, more sharply than I intended. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "I just... I need to be in my own space. I need to feel...normal, even if just for a minute."

He hesitated but then nodded. "Okay," he agreed. "I'll take you home. But if you need anything-anything at all-you let me know, okay?"

I nodded, grateful for his understanding. I knew he wanted to help, but I didn't know how to let him in. I wasn't sure if I could ever let anyone in again.

The drive to my apartment was quiet. I stared out the window, watching the city rush by, a blur of colours and shapes that felt almost dreamlike. The familiarity of the streets should have been comforting, but instead, it only made me feel more disconnected, like I was looking at someone else's life.

When we arrived, Leonardo helped me out of the car, his arm around my waist as he guided me up the stairs to my apartment. The keys felt heavy in my hand as I unlocked the door, the sound of it clicking open louder than I remembered.