The Dorston Fall [Book I in the Dorston Legacy]

Chapter 50 - Broken

Katelyn sat motionless on a pebbled embankment; her legs stretched out in front of her, her back surprisingly straight. Her breathing was shallow and measured. Her thoughts were as taciturn and shifting as the stream before her. She was mesmerised by its gentle movements; by its easy twists, turns and flow. The dark water lapsed over the rocks and pebbles softly. It rippled over and under tree roots, through delicate and reedy shrubs. The first light of the moon shimmered down; casting a beautiful, silvery glow through the ever moving water. The trees whispered and swayed with the slight breeze that came sailing round her. It touched her cheeks, moved her hair, ruffled her dress, but she couldn't feel it. She was beyond feeling. She was beyond…anything.

The grief and pain that swelled deep within her, was inhumane and surreal. It was impossible to feel both, and so intensely. It exhausted her, trying to find logic and reason behind it all. It numbed her, despite her body wanting to do so many things and all at once. It wanted to run. It wanted to cry. It wanted to rant and rave; release its vault of anger. It wanted to scream. It wanted to shatter into a million, bloody pieces and never recover. And yet, she was like stone; unable and unwilling to move. She was aware of the living world around her, but at the same time she was so far detached, she may has well been a spirit. She saw, but didn't truly see. She was deaf to the softest sound. Her head throbbed and her heart ached, but she felt none of it. 

She was completely and utterly broken.

Nothing happened the way it was supposed to. Her plan was all so simple and perfect: travel to the mountains, find Hellmore, find and rescue her father and make it home. That was all she had to do. It was perfect. It was flawless. So when did it become so distorted? How did it spiral so out of control? If she had known the true danger of her quest, if she had anticipated the bandits’ cunning and fortitude, if she knew about her uncle-

A sharp pain ravished her heart and Katelyn winced; her eyes tightly shut. Her uncle: the one person she did not count on in all of this. The one person, other than her parents, she thought she could love and trust without conditions. How could he do this to her, to his own brother? What possessed him to betray her this way? How could he side with Drake and the bandits? Why did he? What possible reason could he have had to have done this? None of it made sense. He was her uncle. They were blood. She loved and admired him. She’d known him all her life. None of it made sense. He didn't make sense. He had opposed her quest from the very beginning. He’d even supported her mother against the idea. The motion was unheard of. They never agreed on anything! If he was so and indeed against it, why didn't he persuade her more to abandon it?

But, no sooner had she started to question, Katelyn knew the answer. She was never one to abandon hope. If someone told her nothing could be done, she was determined to prove them wrong. Nothing was impossible, just as long as you had heart and conviction. It was a flaw she’d accepted long ago. It was a flaw…her own uncle had used against her. He knew, all along, that she wouldn't give up on her father. He knew her love and loyalty would cloud her judgement. He knew, despite all the protests and concerns, that she would take the long journey to Hellmore and attempt the impossible. He knew all of it before she’d even set foot out of Sella. He'd used her. He'd betrayed her in the worst possible way. He’d taken her father from her.

What have I done to deserve this?

It happened so fast, and all at once. Like she had been hit in the stomach, Katelyn's body jerked in response. Her heavy heart started to beat faster and faster. The back of her eyes started to itch and sore; tears quickly gathered. The voices in her head started to shout and pound against her skull. She whimpered, hiding her face in her arms; her legs curled inwards to her chest. She felt so small and pathetic. Her frozen body was waking up with a vengeance and with it, every emotion and sense. They jumped to attention like soldiers.