The Hidden Pain

29. Hospitalised

𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

Numb.

That’s what I keep telling myself, but it isn’t true. I’m not numb at all—if anything, my mind is racing with a thousand tangled thoughts. I groan, exhausted and confused, torn in every direction by questions I can’t answer.

I don’t even know what day it is, or how long I’ve been here. All I can see is this black, dusty room lit by a single yellow bulb. A small window near the ceiling lets in just enough light to hint at something beyond, but nothing clear enough to give me a sense of place.

I don’t know where I am—or even what country this is. The air feels so close, so stifling, it’s as if invisible hands are closing around my throat.

I’m so tired and helpless—physically, mentally, in every possible way. My thoughts drift to Sandro, Jaz, and Ron. Where are they? Are they searching for me? Or has Dimitri done something to them too? I force myself to shake that thought away.

Then I think of my brothers. Are they even trying to find me? Or are they relieved I’m gone, glad to be free of the burden? The latter possibility hurts more than it should.

My mind turns to Grandpa and my other cousins. I'm not particularly close to them, but they’ve treated me with more kindness than most people ever have.

I’m done pretending I’m brave, done acting like I don’t need anyone. For once, I just want someone to save me. I’m only sixteen, yet I’ve endured more than most people face in an entire lifetime.

My chest feels heavy, and tears threaten to spill over. I don’t stop them this time. One slips down my cheek, followed by many more until my quiet weeping turns into deep, aching sobs. I keep crying, releasing everything—my fear, my frustration, all the emotions I’ve been trying so hard to bury.

I hate my mother for taking me away from my family. I hate my father for never trying hard enough to find us—hell, I don’t even know what he looks like. I envy my brothers for having every luxury, for never having to deal with problems like mine.

I don’t have any memories of my childhood. I don’t remember anyone, or anything, from those years. I don’t even remember the real me. It’s all so messed up—everything is so completely fucked up.

Sometimes I imagine how my life might have been if my mother had never taken me away. Maybe I wouldn’t have had to face any of this. Maybe I would have been happy. Right?

Then you wouldn’t have met Alessandro, a voice whispers in the back of my mind.

No—the thought of never meeting Alessandro feels like a nightmare. He was my anchor when I had no one. He loved me, cared for me, protected me. He became my whole world.

And because of him, I found my two best friends, Ron and Jaz. The idea of never knowing them terrifies me. They’re the most precious people I have.

I press my palms against my eyes, trying to stop the tears, but they keep coming anyway. It’s overwhelming how much I miss them all. How much I wish they were here now, telling me everything would be okay.

My head pounds with pain, as if someone is hammering it over and over. My eyes burn from crying for so long. I must look like hell.

The pounding only grows worse. I clutch my head in my hands, pressing hard as if that might somehow make it stop. I don’t know how long I sit there like that—head in my hands, gaze fixed on the door.

Maybe, just maybe, someone will open it. Maybe I’ll hear Alessandro’s voice calling my name.

Until then, all I can do is keep breathing and try not to let the darkness swallow me whole.