Page 42 of Fractured Souls

I don't know where I am, but it's a nice room. Before I have a chance to move or do anything, the door opens slowly, and I tense up before I see it's just Brielle coming in.

“Oh good, hun, you’re up.” She smiles kindly at me and sits at the foot of the bed.

I scoot up towards the headboard, leaving as much space between us as I can, not sure how this is going to go. I mentally prepare myself for a beating or hateful words thrown at me.

“I never got your name at the hospital. What is it?”

Part of me wants to lie and give a fake name, but I know that wouldn't do any good in the future, so I tell her, “Harley.”

Her lips tilt up a fraction and she nods. “How are you feeling?”

Wait, what? “I’m… I think I’m okay… Um… Where are we?” I ask hesitantly.

She looks at me with such kindness that it sends a jolt through me. “We are at my home. Lincoln thought it was best to just bring you here because we don't fully know what's going on yet, and he thought the hospital was making you uncomfortable.”

The first thing that registers is we are in her home. Princess Brielle’s home.I really need to stop calling her that.Wait… I fly out of the bed, my body disapproving of the fast movement, and go to the window, but I don't see any water. I sigh in defeat.

Brielle must understand because she says, “The best view is at the back of the house. Would you like to come downstairs and see and maybe we can talk?”

I nod frantically, following her out the door and almost forgetting that I don’t truly know her and need to be careful. She laughs lightly at my eagerness to follow her.

We head downstairs through the beautiful house we are in. It looks to be two stories from what I can see. Everything is open and bright. There are large windows on almost every wall. It's all white with oak and feels extremely peaceful. We don’t walk through the whole house. Instead, we take a huge staircase down, and as I look over the banister, I can see her large open living room with a big fireplace to the right and straight ahead are floor-to-ceiling windows. They go from the ground floor all the way up the wall to the second floor.

It’s beautiful. I can see the ocean before we are even downstairs. When we reach the living room, she walks up to the huge windows and starts pushing them open so they open up like giant doors and make the living room have full access to the outside.

My eyes widen at what I see: the beach. I can't believe I'm seeing it for the first time ever. Without thinking about what I'm doing, I take off running out the doors onto the large deck that appears to wrap around her entire home. I head down the stairs at the end of the deck and immediately hit the sand. It's chilly with the sea breeze, but I love it. I keep walking straight out towards the water. When I get close, I plop down on my butt and push my toes into the sand.

I allow a few tears to fall and breathe deeply, letting a small smile grace my lips.I’m here, Mom. I really hope you were right about Brielle being a princess.I never thought this day would come.

I feel the sand on my feet and running between my toes. It's peaceful. It brings me a sense of comfort I haven't felt in a long time. But it doesn't last.

The heartache that I'm experiencing this without my mom is so strong that I feel like my heart is being shattered into a billion pieces, and it makes it hard for me to breathe.

Brielle sits down next to me and drapes a blanket over my shoulders. I wrap it around myself tightly and silently cry. She doesn't say anything; she just sits with me until the tears subside.

She blows out a breath like she knows what I'm going to say when she asks her next question, “Hun, where is your mom?”

I blink, once, twice, three times. Then I turn my head and look at her. “She's dead,” I say in a monotone voice. Having never been able to speak the words out loud to another person, I find it almost painful to do so now.

Brielle blinks away some tears and sniffles. “I'm so sorry, honey. I can't imagine what you're going through. But I need to know what happened. Why are you here?”

I want to lash out at her, I want to scream at her with all these emotions swarming inside me, but I stop myself knowing that none of this is on her, and she seems to genuinely care about my mom and maybe even me. “Mom died three years ago. I've been living my own personal hell since then. I have finally escaped and now, well, I am so lost and confused. I don’t really understand anything.” Unable to hold back anymore, I stand and walk back inside and follow the same path back up the bedroom.

Expecting some kind of punishment for how I just acted but not seeming to care enough to do anything about it, I get in the bed, curl up, and bawl my eyes out until I fall into a fitful sleep.

When I wake up later, it's dark outside, but there is a lamp on in here and I see Brielle sitting in the window seat staring outside, an open book resting across her legs.

I slowly sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Brielle?” I say groggily. My throat is still tender from the abuse it's taken, so it burns slightly, especially from not having drank any water recently.

She looks over at me and gives me a soft look: content yet sad. I can see her eyes are red as if she's been crying.

“Hey, hun, was your nap okay?” I nod, uncertain why she keeps being so nice when I have done multiple things that normally would get me beat. “Good, I know things are hard right now,” she says as she gets up and comes over to the bed and takes a seat. “But I need to know some things, okay?”

I nod again, not sure what to say, trying not to tense up while I wait for whatever backlash is going to come now.

“Okay, I did some math in my head and when I saw your mama last she was pregnant with you. Hun, you're only sixteen or seventeen. I need to know what happened so I know who to call.”

Immediate panic builds up in me, and before I can think of the consequences, I shout, “NO! No, no,'' I say each one calmer than the last, trying to force myself to calm down. “I… I don't want to explain everything right now, but who I was put with after my mom died… it's been bad. I can't go back there. If you try to make me, I’ll run. I came here because my mom used to tell me stories about you, and I just thought maybe you could help me. But I can go; you don't have to worry, I can be on my way,” I rush out to say, realizing I might have made a huge mistake.

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