The next morning, you wake up dizzy, your eyes clouded and your breath hot.

You’ve never been this sick before.

You feel so limp you could barely lift your finger up.

“Sis?”

You squint and manage to barely focus on Chanyeol’s face.

“Hi, Yeol,” You squeeze out a faint smile.

“Hi,” He replies, pushing your hair off of your forehead and placing a new compress on it.

“How do you like the castle?”

“You asked me that before, sis.  It’s okay, I said,” Chanyeol replies, concern strongly coloring his voice.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I forgot,” You laugh, but inside, you’re berrating yourself for being like this. 

“Chanyeol? Is she awake?”

“Yeah,”

You see Baekhyun stepping into view and you smile at him too.  “Hi, Baek,”

“Thanks, Yeol,” He nods at Chanyeol and takes his seat as Chanyeol walks out the door.

“How long have I been sleeping?” You ask him, watching his face as he takes your hand.

“3 days,”

“Wha—“ You force yourself to sit upright but cough in response, bracing yourself for the blood that’s coming.

But it didn’t.

“That’s great,” Baekhyun sighs in relief, helping you lean your back on the headrest and taking your compress off of your forehead.  “The medicine worked,”

Your calm composure breaks and you grip at the bedsheets, lowering your head to cover your face with your hair.  “What’s going on with me, Baek?”

“Our health specialist said that you’re not suffering from a disease.  But instead, you’re suffering from a mental issue that is affecting your body in a way,” He explains.  “Your body is starting to remember things as your mind keeps getting these flashbacks.  It comes along the flashbacks like a package and your body is replaying those memories physically aside from mentally,”

You look up.  “So that means?”

“That means, that sometime in your past, your body suffered like this because of something,” He answers.  “Which, according to your explanation, might be because of that man you told me about,”

You recall the memories and push down the wave of nausea bubbling in your throat.  “I think he’s some sort of a trainer,” You a breath through your teeth.  “Some sort of coach assigned to me.  He taught me fighting skills, with hands, with weapons, with anything,”

“Can you get a name?” Baekhyun asks.  “Don’t try if it’s pushing you too much,”

“No, it’s Brundt,” You say.  “He wasn’t from this city.  Not from this country, even,”

Baekhyun jots it down on a notepad and stares at it for a long time before flipping it closed and throwing it far onto the sofa.  He buries his face in his hands, afterwards running his hands through his hair.

“Why? What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?” Your hand hovers over his in concern.

“I’m fine,” He says through gritted teeth.  “When you’re not,”

You don’t even have enough power in yourself to think that you’re fine.  You’re not.  You feel helpless, weak, both mind and body, you can’t move, you can’t manage to think clearly.  You feel so heavy, somehow suspended, holding your breath against something, that, you fear, will come crashing down on you soon, and you’re too scared to even imagine what would happen later.

“I’m so sorry,” Baekhyun kisses your hand, turning it so that he’s pressing his lips on your wrist.  “I’m so sorry,”

“It’s not your fault, Baek,” You put your hand to his cheek and grimace as he leans into it, noticing how guilty he’s feeling. 

“If I didn’t bring you to that building, you wouldn’t have to go through all this,”

“With no opportunity whatsoever to figure out who I was in the past? Come on, Baek.  There are good sides and bad sides to everything,” You lift his head up to face you, but he looks away.  “Hey, hey,”

He turns and you smile at him, hoping to push away that look on his face.  “Okay?” You tilt your head to the side, dropping your hand to squeeze his.  He hasn’t been sleeping well.  Nor has he been eating well.  You hate how you’re affecting him so much. 

“Mm,” He slumps.

You notice that it’s late at night, because the curtains are drawn and there’s no light seeping in through the cracks. 

“Come on,” You pull the covers away and scoot over, patting the space beside you.  “Don’t I get a hug?”

He slips under the covers and puts his arm around your waist, tucking your head underneath his chin.  Tightly, he holds on to you. 

“Get better soon, Amara, please,” He whispers, kissing the top of your head.

With him next to you, you slip quickly into unconsciousness as you mutter some sort of an answer to him.

“Where is she?”

“Where’s who?”

You listen to two different voices, one male, one female, both familiar.

It was Kris and your mother.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Silvia,” Kris says.

“What do you want with her, Kris? What is it? If I tell you, will you care for her?”

A slap and your mother’s cry of pain. 

“It’s none of your business,” He says, anger in his voice.  “You ungrateful wretch.  My father had you under his wings for years, and this is how you repay him?”

“You know it yourself,” Your mother spits back.  “He did not love me.  He needed a gem to show off and I was the gem.  Do you know what he did to me? Do you know what he told me to do? He would give me away to his friends, those governors—“

Another slap, but no more cries.

“I was a fool to have fallen for his lies,” Your mother goes on.  “But I still wonder how you come to this, Kris,” She lets out a bitter scoff.  “Are you as much of a fool as he is?”

“Shut up,” Kris says.

“I thought I raised you well,”

“Shut up!”

Your eyes snap open as the realization dawns on you like a ton of bricks.  You can’t push it away anymore, because it’s right there, right in front of your eyes.  You clutch at your head and let out sounds of pain, curling your knees further upwards.  You were so angry, boiling with all the rage and hatred for that man, who had killed his own mother who was yours too.

And now there’s a man on your bed, wrapping his arms around you.

You eye the weapon on your bedside table and grab at it, pushing it into this man’s shoulder.

“You killed her,” You say, eyes wide with anger, pulling away from his hands.

But as your eyes adjust to the dim light, you focus on his face and crumble at the sight of the knife buried on his shoulder.

“Baekhyun,” You whimper, quickly pulling the knife out and sobbing at his cry.  “Baekhyun, Baekhyun, I’m sorry,”

“Amara, are you alright?” He asks you, putting a hand on your cheek. 

“I—“ Your breath catches and you raise your voice.  “Help! Can somebody, please—“

The door slams open and you meet eyes with Lara, who rushed over to Baekhyun with both fear and worry in her eyes.  Luhan comes rushing in after her, and he quickly carries Baekhyun in his arms, out the door as quickly as he came in.

“I’m sorry,” You grab Lara’s arms.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

“He’s going to be okay,” She wraps her arms around you, making comforting sounds.  “He’s going to be okay.  It’s okay, Amara, it’s fine,”

You cringe at the blood you see in your hands, reminding you of the fact that you just stabbed the first person you’re ever attached with.  You hug Lara back, sobbing into her shoulder at the realization and most of all, out of fear for yourself.

For you just lost the trust you put on yourself.