Diary of the Unbroken (BOOK #4)

Hurt

William

Hurt.

It consumed me. Every day, I fell further and further under its power. Ever since Ava left, I felt nothing but the pain of her absence. It burned my eyelids. It turned and twisted my stomach. It squeezed at my heart and weakened my whole body.

Everyone in the house let me be, giving me my time and my space, but no amount of time or space could save what had already been done.

She just left.

I felt stupid—stupid for believing she would ever listen to me. Stupid for not going back to Daniel's headquarters to be beaten to the pulp by him and his bloody Red Barons. So many things I could have done. If my body hadn't been so weak in that moment. If I would have thought about it for a just second. If I would have just taken the chance so that she didn't have to.

As soon as we found out what she'd done, I made a move to go to her. There was no way I was going to let this happen. I yelled at Derek. I punched him again and again—in the face, in the neck, in the chest—and he didn't even bother to fight back.

I could see it in his eyes. The guilt. He had been the one to let her go.

"There were no other options," he said. "But we'll get her back, William. I will get her back."

I told him to buzz off, though less eloquently, and shut myself in my room. Since then, I barely came out. Weeks past. Bernard, Jacqueline, Angelina, Victor, or sometimes Jane would check in on me, just to make sure I was still alive, I guess. Not that I had much of a choice.

Derek remained outside, giving me my space, surely consumed by that guilt of his. Rightfully so.

But part of me hated him for it. I hated how guilty he always felt. Because the guilt was always about him. Him and the rotten decisions he had made for the best. The decision to let Ava go. To leave me a life where I never felt anything but loss.

I hated him for being my father. For thinking he knew what was right—that he was the almighty and powerful just protecting his child. I hated Ava's father for taking her and using her. But most of all I hated myself as a father for letting it get this far. For not knowing.

I had been the one to leave in the first place. To blindly go after an instinct. If anything I deserved it. I deserved the hurt and the pain and the brokenness inside of me. I deserved all of it.

There was a tap on the door, pulling me from my dark twisted thoughts. I didn't even bother looking up from where I sat on the floor next to the bed. As soon as the door swung open I recognized his scent along with the faint beating of his heart.

Derek.

"William," he said. "I...We need to talk."

I didn't say anything.

Derek sighed, stepping forward and shutting the door behind him. "I try and give you time, but...I don't think it's working. The two of us—we need to talk. About us. About what happened. About Ava—"

"I don't want to talk," I said through my teeth. "Just leave and pretend like I'm okay. That's what you're best at."

His heart beat grew faster. I glanced over to find his brows pulling in the way they always did when he was met with such humanly emotions.

"What is your problem?" he finally said. "Stand up, William. Face me like a man."

Now, I glared over at him. He looked ready to pounce. His stature tense, hands ready—the stance of a Hunter.