Invisible string~ Matthew Fairchild {1}

Thirteen

Matthew swore while he fumbled with his coat. Both of the people he was closest with were suffering. Amelia was so upset, all because of him. Why did he say those things—

"Is James— did he seem alright?" Grace stood before him, silvery hair spilling over her shoulder.

"Of course not," he said, his voice low. "H-How could you? James has loved you since he was a child. He gave you his heart. And you just— shredded it into pieces! You got engaged to Charles. He will never feel half of what James feels for you."

"Feelings," said Grace. "That is all men think women want, isn't it? Sentiment, sympathy— nonsense. I have never felt anything, any sentiment, for anyone—"

"As comforting as it is to know you have never felt anything," said Matthew, "I must go clean up your mess."

"What of your own? Miss Lightwood seemed fairly upset when she left."

Matthew felt his breath catch in his throat. Amelia. He had to be there for her. But James was a danger to others and himself when he was like this. On the other hand, Amelia was grieving, and Matthew didn't have any proof she would handle her emotions in a better way than James—

What did he do? What could he do to fix the mess he had created? He had to send someone to find Amelia.

Without another word to Grace, Matthew rushed to find Lucie, who was with Cordelia outside of the infirmary. Seeing him, Lucie furrowed her brows. "Matthew, what's wrong?"

"James," he said, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "And Amelia. Everything is a mess. I need both of you to go to Hyde park. Pray that she's there."

"Matthew—"

"Please."

Cordelia nodded. "Alright. We'll go. Go find James."

Matthew nodded, rushing out of the institute and into the night.

• • •

Amelia sat against a tree in Hyde Park. Another round of sobs racked through her body. She couldn't stop thinking: thinking about her dreams, thinking about Matthew. Matthew, who had said so many awful things. But so had she.

Hopefully, he would come after her. She knew it was a sick thing to wish for, but she needed to apologize.

She was torn from her thoughts by someone calling her name. But to Amelia's dismay, the voice didn't belong to Matthew.

It was Lucie and Cordelia, the former with a witchlight in hand. They both rushed to Amelia's side.

"Amelia, what happened?" Asked Lucie. "Matthew wouldn't say anything, just to come here and find you."

"Is he here?"

"No," Cordelia said. "He went to find James. Come along, let's get you back to the Institute."

• • •

Amelia woke up, sobs shaking her body. She looked to her hands, sighing with relief when she saw they weren't covered with blood. She hadn't killed anyone.

She got out of bed, needing some fresh air to clear her mind. There was something invigorating about the night air. She walked to the library, eventually stepping onto the small balcony. It was raining, and Amelia had no coat, only an umbrella. But she loved the rain. There was something so mystical about it that she couldn't quite place.