Regrets That Were Once Made

Chapter 39 ~ Plastic

3rd of July 1795

~Frederick's pov~

"Something happened to Dad!" Charles replied as the tears streaming down his face became larger. I looked at him and swung my legs over the bench and looked at Charles closer.

"What happened?" I questioned. Charles sobbed slightly and looked at me scared, "I don't know, mum said she found him at the bottom of the stairs. I think dad fell down." he gasped slightly. I felt my heart drop slightly and my eyes widened as I looked at Charles again.

"Take me to him," I instructed and Charles nodded. I quickly looked back at Johanna and she nodded smiling. I smiled back slightly and turned my head back ahead. "Dad's in his room with mum and the doctor." He pointed ahead. I nodded and we ran towards the palace entrance.

My feet paced up and down as we raced down the green turf. My heart was racing from the sheer speed I was going at and the newfound anxiety from my situation. But I kept running despite my heart feeling as if it was going to drop out. Soon Charles and I reached the palace entrance and started climbing the stairs.

Every second or so, I'd look back at Charles who was always just a few steps away. We continued doing so until we reached the familiar corridor leading to our parent's bedroom. When we reached the corridor it was only a matter of time until we managed to sprint our way towards the door.

Soon we stopped at the door and I felt my breath catch up to me, my lungs felt like they had just been forcefully hollowed out causing me to pant uncontrollably. Charles, on the other hand, started to cough and I looked at him in fear as I quickly held him up slightly.

He soon ceased coughing and quickly moved his hand away from my sight. I smiled slightly and I knocked on the door gently. "Coming!" An unusually cheerful voice responded and I stood back slightly looking at Charles. The door soon opened and the blank yet oddly happy face of my mother greeted me. "Your father is inside, did Charles tell you what happened?" She questioned. I nodded and she smiled walking me into the room.

I looked ahead and saw my father leaning against the headboard. His arm appeared to be bandaged and his face was less confident than usual. I smiled slightly and he looked up at me with slight fear. I looked at him oddly and felt my mother hug my arm. "Your poor father hasn't been able to speak since. I just found him at the bottom of the stairs and he hasn't said anything about what happened. I was thinking you could try and talk to him." She smiled looking towards my father. I nodded awkwardly and she walked over to my father.

"Freddy's going to talk to you my darling, Georgie." She grinned as she hugged my father. I smiled slightly at her sweet words but noticed the almost horrified expression my father had. I looked at him slightly confused and walked towards him.

I smiled at him softly and knelt down next to the bed. "Are you okay dad?" I questioned. My father looked at me and nodded slightly, I smiled again and moved closer to him. "So is it just your arm?" I glanced at his cast. My father looked at me, still unusually silent and pulled off his blanket to show a cast around his right leg. My eyes widened slightly and my father covered his legs again. I looked at him and hugged him slightly, the injuries weren't life-threatening, but the thought of him almost dying made me feel guilty.

I then felt a hand placed upon my shoulder and my mother looking at me. "Freddy, your father will be fine." She grinned. I looked at her and smiled as I let go of my father. It felt so weird for him not to talk, especially since I hugged him.

In fact, almost every time I even showed a bit of affection to my father, he would start foaming at the mouth with joy. But now, he was silent. Not even a smile or any other sign of joy. Instead, he seemed empty, his usually happy and vibrant eyes were dull and had a glint of sorrow.

Something felt so odd, so completely unnatural but I couldn't place my finger on it. I sighed slightly and stood up as I looked to the doorway. Charles was standing with the same dull and miserable expression as my father, they really were related. Two obnoxiously joyfully pale people who now looked more depressed than ever. The only person keeping the atmosphere from complete despair was the one person you'd think to be the hardest hit.

Maybe it was the way she dealt with bad situations, but something about my mother's slight smile scared me. It wasn't completely obvious, but it was there, lingering. Lingering as if it wanted to.