All That's Left

Chapter 35 | Dorian

Present

2023

Seventeen years old

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I felt was a dull ache running through my entire body. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and every muscle seemed to protest as I tried to move. The bright lights above me stung, making me blink a few times to adjust. I was in the hospital—though the exact memory of how I got here was fuzzy. Slowly, the events started trickling back: Lucas, the fight, Vania...Vania.

"Dorian?" My mother's soft voice reached me before I even noticed her sitting by my bedside. I turned my head slightly, the effort exhausting me, but I found her there, looking at me with worry etched in every line of her face. My father stood by the window, arms crossed, staring out as if he had been pacing for hours.

"Hey," I croaked, my throat dry. "What...what happened?" My voice felt rough, like it  hadn't been used in a long time.

"You're okay, honey." My mother moved closer, brushing the hair off my forehead with trembling fingers. "You've been out for two days."

"Two days?" The words felt like they echoed in my mind. I had been unconscious for that lon? "What...what happened with Lucas?"

My father finally turned from the window. "The police...they got to him in time. One of the officers that followed you shot Lucas before he could pull the trigger on you."

I exhaled, the tension in my chest loosening just a fraction. "Lucas?" I asked hesitantly, not sure I wanted the answer.

My father gave a small, solemn nod. "He didn't make it. The shot was fatal."

A strange mix of relief and sadness settled over me. Lucas was gone—he wouldn't hurt Vania or anyone else ever again. But at the same time, there was an empty ache inside of me, a loss for what Lucas had become. If he had gotten proper help, he wouldn't have become like this. 

"And Vania?" I asked, the worry rising to the surface. "Where is she? Is she okay?"

I notice the way my parents exchanged glances, a quick look of hesitation passing between them. My stomach twisted uncomfortably.

"She's fine," my mother said gently. "She wasn't badly hurt."

"Where is she?" I asked, pushing myself up slightly, but my body protested, sending a sharp pain through my body. "Why isn't she here?"

"Vania...she left, son," my father said softly, taking a step forward. "After they took you to the hospital, Vania wanted some time to get through what happened. She asked Brielle if she could stay in her old cabin for a while, the one out of town. Brielle agreed."

"She left?" My heart dropped at the words. "What do you mean she left?"

"She needed space," my father repeated, his voice calm but with a hint of understanding. "She's been through a lot. We all have. Vania wanted time alone."

My thought raced. Vania leaving town...it didn't sit right with me. "And no one's checked on her since?" I asked, panic creeping into my voice. I could feel the anxiety building in my chest as the realization sunk in. Vania was out there, alone, after everything that happened. She was blaming herself again. I knew her well enough to know that. The weight of guilt was something Vania carried around far too often.

"We thought it best to give her some time," my mother explained, trying to sound reassuring. "She needed to clear her head."

"No," I said, shaking my head as if trying to dispel the very idea. "Vania can't be alone. Not after what happened." I struggled to sit up fully, the pain rippling through my body as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. "She blames herself for what happened. I can't just sit here while she's out there, thinking it's all her fault. I don't know what she'll do."

My mother stood up quickly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Dorian, you just woke up. You need to rest."

"I'm fine," I insisted, though I felt far from it. Every part of me screamed in protest, but I couldn't leave Vania out there alone. "I need to go to her."

My father stepped in front of me, arms crossed again. "We'll drive you there then, Dorian. Let us help you."

"No." The word came out sharper than I intended. "I need to do this alone."

"Dorian, think about this," my father urged. "Lucas almost killed you. You can't just rush off like this without thinking it through."

"That's exactly why I have to go," I shot back, my voice rough with emotion. "She blames herself for everything Lucas did. She's probably thinking she's the reason I almost died. I can't leave her alone, thinking like that." I tried to stand, my legs wobbling beneath me. "She's everything to me."

The room went silent for a moment. My mother's eyes softened with sympathy , and my father's stern expression faltered.

"Okay," my father finally said, letting out a long breath. "Okay, Dorian. But if you start to feel unwell, you come straight back, okay?"

I nodded, not waiting for anything else as I grabbed my clothes from the chair next to the bed. Every movement hurt, but I didn't care. All I could think about was Vania—how she always tried to carry the weight of the world on her shoulder, and how I couldn;t let her bear that weight alone anymore.

As I left the hospital and headed for my car, my mind was already racing with everything I needed to say to her. There was no more secret between us, no more walls. I loved her. And whatever came next, we were going to face it together. I wasn't going to lose her. Not now. Not ever.

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The road stretched out before me, winding through the trees like a path that led further into my own thoughts. The sky was painted with the colors of dusk—deep purples and fiery oranges streaked the horizon as the sun began its slow descent. 

Brielle's cabin wasn't fat outside of town, just past the outskirts where the trees grew denser, casting long shadows over the dirt road. As I finally approached it, I spotted it—the small, secluded cabin nestled in the woods. The sight of my mother's car, which Vania has been using, parked in the driveway made my heart jump. The fact that it was still here gave me a flicker of hope. Maybe things weren't as bad as I feared. Maybe she was just resting. Maybe she was okay.

I parked quickly, turning off the engine, but my pulse was still racing. The quietness of the woods felt eerie, amplifying the sounds of my footsteps as I walked towards the front door. It was so silent, the wind barely rustled the trees, and a sense of unease settled in my gut. The evening air was cool against my skin, but I barely noticed. My heart was pounding too hard in my ears for me to hear anything else.

I knocked on the door once. No answer. I knocked again, a little harder this time.

"Vania?" I called out, my voice breaking the stillness of the fading daylight.

Nothing.

I pressed my ear to the door, trying to listen for any movement inside, but all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing. When I reached for the doorknob, I was relieved to find it unlocked. The door creaked open, and I stepped inside, calling out her name again, this time louder.

"Vania?  It's me, Dorian!"

Still no response.

The cabin was dimly lit, with only a small lamp in the living room casting a soft glow over the furniture. Everything looked untouched, like no one had been here for a while, except for a jacket lying on the couch—Vania's jacket. I moved deeper into the house, glancing down the hallway that led to the bedrooms, dread building in my chest. 

I called her name once more as I rounded the corner into the bedroom.

That's when I saw her.

Vania was lying on the floor. 

Next to her, I spotted a bottle of pills. It was tipped over on the floor, some of the pills scattered across the hardwood, the label half torn but still legible enough for me to see it was painkillers.