Sibling spotlight - billie and Finneas story

Father

Chapter: Father

The next morning brought a heavy stillness to the hospital room. The air was tense, and the sunlight creeping through the blinds did little to lift the weight in the air. Y/N was still curled up in her bed, her body stiff from the soreness and bruises that painted her skin. Every breath she took seemed labored, and her mind remained distant, lost somewhere between fear and exhaustion.

Billie and Finneas had barely slept, keeping vigil by her bedside. Their eyes were red from lack of rest and worry. When the door creaked open and their parents stepped inside, there was a brief moment of relief—until everything shifted.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, and as soon as she saw her father walk through the door, her entire body tensed. Her breathing hitched, and her eyes grew wide with fear. It was subtle at first, but then her hands gripped the bed sheets tightly, and she scooted back, as far away as she could go, against the headboard.

Her father’s face dropped as he noticed her reaction. He took a step toward her, his voice soft, trying not to startle her. “Y/N, it’s me. It’s Dad.”

But that only made her flinch even more. Her body curled in on itself, and tears filled her eyes as her breath became erratic. She didn’t want to feel this way—she knew it was her father, she loved him—but her mind couldn’t separate the trauma from the present. Every time she saw his tall frame, the broad shoulders, the outline of his face, it triggered something deep inside her, something she couldn’t control.

Billie noticed it immediately, her heart breaking as she watched Y/N pull away. “Dad, stop,” she said quickly, stepping in front of him to block his path. “She’s scared.”

Her father froze, his face filled with confusion and pain. “Scared? Of me?” His voice cracked, the hurt evident. He looked over at his wife, who stood silently beside him, her hand gently covering her mouth as she realized what was happening.

“I think it’s… she’s not scared of you,” Finneas said softly, trying to bridge the gap. “But you—your build—might remind her of him.”

Billie nodded, her throat tight. “It’s not your fault, Dad. She just needs time.”

Y/N, trembling in her bed, looked at her father with wide, glassy eyes. She wanted to speak, to tell him she still loved him, that she didn’t mean to be afraid. But every time she tried to open her mouth, the fear bubbled up, strangling her voice. The images of the man who had taken her flashed in her mind—his harsh eyes, the way he towered over her, the force of his grip—and in that moment, her father’s presence only brought those memories to the surface.

The doctor, who had been standing quietly in the background, noticed the change in Y/N’s demeanor as soon as her father entered the room. She stepped closer, observing how Y/N flinched away from him, and the wheels began turning in her mind.

After a moment, the doctor gently cleared her throat. “I’d like to speak to the police about this,” she said softly, pulling Billie and Finneas aside while their parents stood awkwardly near the door.

Billie glanced at the doctor, frowning in confusion. “Why? What’s wrong?”

The doctor spoke quietly, her voice calm but firm. “It’s clear that your sister is experiencing a trauma response. She’s associating certain features of her kidnapper with your father—perhaps the height or the build. This could help the investigation.”

Billie’s eyes widened in realization. “You mean… you think she’s scared of him because the guy looked like him?”

The doctor nodded. “It’s likely that something about her father’s appearance is triggering memories of the kidnapper. It’s not unusual in cases like this. We can use this information to narrow down the search for the suspect.”

Finneas, overhearing the conversation, stepped in. “But she still loves him,” he said quietly. “She’s terrified, but she’s torn… I saw it in her eyes. She wants to be close to him but can’t.”

The doctor nodded sympathetically. “It’s a complex emotional reaction. Trauma can make someone feel conflicted, especially when they’re faced with familiar figures who remind them of their abuser, even unintentionally.”

Billie and Finneas exchanged a glance, their stomachs twisting with both worry and guilt. They didn’t want their father to feel like he was part of the problem, but they also knew they had to protect Y/N from any triggers that might set her back.

“Can you stay with her while we talk to the police?” Billie asked the doctor, who nodded.

Back at the bed, Y/N’s father stood frozen, unsure of what to do. He wanted to hug her, to reassure her, but he knew he couldn’t. His heart broke as he watched his daughter shrink away from him, her fear so raw and palpable. He had never felt so powerless in his life.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if she could hear him. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

Y/N looked at him with tear-filled eyes, her lips trembling as she tried to form words. She wanted to say something—to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that she still loved him—but all she could manage was a shaky nod. The fear was too much, the trauma too deep.

As Billie and Finneas returned to Y/N’s bedside, the tension in the room slowly began to ease. They sat on either side of her, offering silent comfort as their parents lingered by the door.

“We’ll be back tomorrow, okay?” their mother said softly, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “We love you so much.”

Y/N nodded weakly, her body still trembling. “I love you too,” she whispered, though the words felt heavy on her tongue.

And as their parents left for the night, the room once again fell into a fragile, uneasy quiet.