Page 138 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

The Legionnaire Games: Day 32, hour 24

Arabella vomited on her hands and knees.

It was late, and we were the only ones in the hall. Everyone else was asleep, getting as much rest as they could before tomorrow’s competition.

“Please, let me help you,” I whispered as I reached down, but she pushed and kicked to get away from me.

I hated seeing her like this.

Broken.

Suffering.

She needed someone to protect her. I wanted to be that person.

A few hours ago, she’d entered the shifter legion’s room with wild hair and a smile on her face.

She’d left with braids and a haunted expression.

Now her movements were jerky and her eyes wide, unfocused, and sightless like she was far away.

“What happened, sweetheart?” I asked as I approached her with my palms up in a nonthreatening position.

I’d read a book about the psychology of body language.

Appearing approachable was important to fostering trust with someone.

The book had also said that if you stared into someone’s eyes for over a minute, chemicals would release in their brain that mimicked love. Attachment. Dependence.

I kept my eyes on Arabella every chance I got.

Problem was, it wasn’t working.

Now, as I approached her, either she couldn’t hear me over the sound of her retching or she didn’t care to answer.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” I asked softly.

She pointedly turned her head in the other direction.

I scratched at my throat as the urge to scream tightened my chest.

Gasping for air, I couldn’t breathe.

I needed her to look at me, but I couldn’t do anything but whisper quietly, and I couldn’t get her attention. Sometimes I wished I couldn’t speak at all. At least then, words wouldn’t feel so close. Like I could taste them.

Eternally taunting me.

Losing your ability to speak was painful, but having the ability and being unable to use it was torture.

Every day.

Every night.

Every moment of my life.

I was trapped.

And there was no escaping it. No solution. No way out.

---