Sibling spotlight - billie and Finneas story

Small flashback

Chapter: Small flashback

TW: flashback

The night loomed heavy around them, thick with the weight of unspoken fears. Y/N lay in bed, her body trembling as the shadows danced across the walls. The quietness of the house felt suffocating, amplifying the echoes of her nightmares. Each creak of the floorboards or rustle of leaves outside sent her heart racing, and she felt as though she were teetering on the edge of a precipice, terrified of what might push her over.

The events of her kidnapping played on a relentless loop in her mind, flashing like an old film reel—images of the dark van, the menacing voice, the feeling of helplessness. Each recollection was a sharp blade, slicing through her resolve and leaving her gasping for breath. No matter how hard she tried to shake it off, the terror clung to her like a second skin.

Just down the hall, Billie and Finneas were sitting together in the living room, the soft glow of a lamp casting gentle shadows. They were reviewing lyrics for a new song, but their minds were elsewhere—fixed on their sister, whom they felt slipping further away from them. They had seen her flicker of hope that afternoon, but it had vanished as quickly as it had come.

“I don’t know what to do, Billie,” Finneas admitted, his voice low and strained. “Every time I think she’s getting better, something sends her spiraling back into that darkness.”

Billie sighed, rubbing her temples as if trying to ward off the impending headache. “I wish there was something we could say or do to help her feel safe again. But it’s like she’s trapped in her own mind. I just want her to know that we’re here for her.”

They fell into a heavy silence, each lost in their thoughts. Billie’s gaze drifted to the hallway, her heart aching for Y/N. She could almost feel her sister’s pain, a palpable weight in the air. “I can’t bear the thought of her going through this alone,” she finally said, her voice barely a whisper.

Finneas nodded, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “We need to do something. Maybe we should talk to someone—get a professional involved or something. She needs more help than we can give her.”

Billie frowned, her heart sinking at the thought. “But what if she doesn’t want that? What if it pushes her further away?”

“We have to try,” Finneas insisted. “We can’t just sit here and watch her suffer.”

Just as Billie opened her mouth to respond, a muffled sound broke through the silence—a soft whimper. They both froze, their hearts racing as they exchanged worried glances. Without a word, they leaped to their feet and rushed down the hallway toward Y/N’s room.

When they entered, the sight before them shattered their hearts. Y/N was curled up in a ball, her face buried in her knees, the sheets tangled around her like a cocoon. Her body shook with silent sobs, and her breathing was shallow and rapid.

“Y/N?” Billie called softly, her heart racing as she rushed to her sister’s side. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re here.”

Finneas knelt beside them, his expression a mixture of concern and sorrow. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

At the sound of their voices, Y/N’s eyes shot open, wide and terrified. She flinched away from them, pressing her back against the headboard, her breaths coming in panicked gasps. “No! Please, don’t come closer!” she cried, her voice trembling. “You’re not him! You’re not him!”

“Y/N, it’s us! It’s Billie and Finneas!” Billie urged gently, holding her hands up in a calming gesture. “We’re not going to hurt you. You’re safe with us.”

But Y/N’s eyes were filled with fear as she struggled to comprehend. “No! I can’t! I can’t!” she sobbed, her body trembling violently.

Finneas felt his heart break as he watched her. “Please, just breathe. It’s okay. Just focus on our voices. We’re right here.”

Y/N’s breaths came in quick, frantic bursts as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the panic. Memories flashed through her mind—echoes of screams, rough hands gripping her, the overwhelming feeling of being trapped. The darkness of her past surged forward, threatening to consume her.

“Y/N, listen to me!” Billie’s voice cut through the chaos, steady and strong. “You’re safe. You’re home. Just take a deep breath in… and out. In… and out. That’s it.”

Slowly, Y/N’s breath began to steady, though the fear still lingered in her eyes. Finneas moved closer, careful to respect her space. “Y/N, we’re not going anywhere. We love you. We want to help you through this.”

The vulnerability in her expression began to soften as she met their eyes, but the fear still held tight. “I’m so scared,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t forget. I can’t make it stop.”

Billie nodded, feeling tears prick at her own eyes. “I know, but you don’t have to face this alone. We’ll fight through this together, step by step. You’re stronger than you know.”

Y/N’s body shuddered as she tried to absorb their words. They were a lifeline in her stormy sea, and the flicker of trust that remained in her heart urged her to hold on. “But what if I can’t be strong?” she whispered, vulnerability etched into every word.

Finneas shook his head, a fierce determination in his eyes. “It’s okay if you’re not strong right now. You don’t have to be. You just need to be you, and we’ll be here to catch you when you fall.”

In that moment, the dam broke. Y/N leaned into Billie, the tears flowing freely as her sobs filled the room. Billie wrapped her arms around her sister, holding her tight, grounding her in a way that felt safe. Finneas joined in, enveloping them both, forming a protective cocoon of love and reassurance.

“I’m here. I’m here,” Billie murmured, rocking Y/N gently. “You’re safe. You’re loved.”

The weight of their embrace offered Y/N a glimmer of solace in her tumultuous world. But even as she held on tightly, the shadows of her past loomed large, reminding her that the journey to healing would be long and fraught with challenges. She was terrified of the darkness that lurked within her, but in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of her siblings, she clung to the hope that maybe—just maybe—she could find her way back into the light.