Arabella D'Angelo is just a shell of a girl, a mere presence floating through the halls of her Los Angeles home. Her once bright grey eyes and sunshine-like spirit was crushed by the weight of her abusive parents.
Living in a constant state of fear...
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The hospital room was clocked in an unsettling silence, that seemed to amplify the sounds of life out in the dark night of Rome. The distant hum of the city was barely overpowering the soft beeping of the heart monitor, creating a rhythmic and steady to the tense atmosphere within the room.
My forehead was pressed against my palms, while my elbows rested on my knees. The unnerving thoughts in my head were disturbing to say the least, only fueling the ache in my heart. I craned my neck up and found myself staring at her unmoving form on the hospital bed, unable to make out what just happened within these six hours.
The prominent bruise sticking on her forehead only seem to darken more with time, sending a twisting sensation in my stomach. How could I have let this happen?
A faint creak resounded from the doorway, light footsteps nearing inside the room. I didn't bother to check who it was, too engrossed in the red and white patterns appearing in the monitoring machine. It seemed to be the only thing helping me in staying somewhat sane.
"She hasn't woken up yet?" Damon asked, his voice low and quiet. I glanced beside at him and shook my head slowly, moving over to give him space to sit. "Christopher said she should be up before ten."
"She will be okay." I tried to assure, swallowing down the lump in my throat. "How is Kill doing?"
"He went to sleep after I fed him some dinner." He exhaled deeply, holding his head in his hands. "Do you think they will be okay?"
The vulnerability in his tone was surprising, but I was too tired and stressed to even give a reaction. He blamed himself, just like how I was doing. All my siblings were in pain and it did nothing but ruin my whole fucking day.
"I don't know about Arabella, but the others will be fine." His heated gaze averted from Arabella's peaceful face to my bothered one, dark grey eye narrowing into slits. "When do you plan on tell her the truth, Damon?"
"She will not know about the truth, Elijah." His eyes twitched, lips pressing down in a thin line. "Not now, not ever. And you know exactly why."
"And why can't she know that?" I contradicted infuriatedly, meeting his hardened eyes which were fixated on the heart monitor from across us. "If she can entrust us with her past, then why can't we trust her with ours?"
This whole ordeal about us being secretive about our jobs and keeping her in the dark about it was fucking repulsing me to the core, knowing we were lying right on her face everyday. This wasn't right. It wasn't fair to her.
