The Fallen King | ✓

Chapter 16

~Chapter 16~

Do you know those days where nothing seems to come into focus? When everything around you feels like it's happening in slow motion and you're at the centre of it all feeling cold, emotionless and empty. Those days where you just can't seem to respond to anything around you and the whole words feels like it's going to collapse in on itself at any given moment but there's nothing you can do. Your brain and body appear to be moving out of sync and absolutely nothing makes any sense to you.

Those days where you just feel detached.

I think that was the best way to describe how I felt.

There was no pain, no grief, just emptiness my entire journey home.

People's voices slurred around me as I walked through the airport, taunting me, provoking me to feel something, anything.

The flashing lights of the few paparazzi who had caught onto my sudden unplanned trip home blinded me, sending my mind further down the rabbit hole and away from reality. I didn't bother trying to hide from them; there was no point — to anything.

The only thing I could feel was a dull ache in my chest that throbbed and pulsed, reminding me of why I was here. That there was still one purpose left for me: to see my brother one last time.

The drive through London was slow and tedious. It was a dreary day and the rain pattered on the car window in a rhythmic fashion, trying, unsuccessfully, to soothe me. I sighed as I tapped the glass in time with the pitter-patter of the rain — just let this all be a dream, please.

When I finally stepped inside my family home the air felt stiff and cold.

The triplets weren't running around causing havoc so Anna, our nanny, would have to chase after them; Olivia's wailing wasn't pulsating through the thick plaster; and even my younger brother, Daniel, wasn't blasting his utterly terrible music through the walls at full volume. Everything was silent in an eerie way.

My footsteps echoed as I walked across the sleek, white tiles, my suitcase making clunking noises behind me.

The obnoxiously large staircase didn't have toys scattered across it that I'd have to dodge as I made my way upstairs and to my room.

The house felt vacant and empty. Like I was all alone, trapped in my own personal form of hell with no escape.

I dumped my things in my room quickly, not bothering to take much of a look at it. This place held too many bad memories, my room especially so and I wanted nothing more than to be far away from it, from this whole house, from this bloody country.

Instead, I chose to make a beeline for Zack's room, the place that had oddly always been the most comforting to me.

A wave of nostalgia hit me as I opened the heavy oak door and stepped inside. Everything looked exactly the same as it had three years ago except his trophy shelf looked slightly crooked — probably because of the triplets causing havoc; they just loved to annoy him.

His room was still a pale blue; he still had racing posters adhered to his walls; his dirty laundry, like always, was piling in the corner; and his bed was an unmade mess.

Not caring about the mess for once, I lay down on his bed, wrapping his sheets around me.

My mind flashed back to when we were kids and I used to get terrible nightmares. I'd always sneak into Zack's room and he'd comfort me until I calmed down. He'd hug me and tell me a stupid story that always made me laugh and then he'd let me sleep in his room with him because he knew it made me feel safe.