I haven't seen him again the past 3 days, for better or worse.

There wasn't much in the box he brought me. A book I had started to read after the job at the Lane mansion to pass the time, my cactus, two sets of clothes, and some stuff to keep myself clean and groomed.

The latter of which was necessary and highly appreciated, as was my cactus. It's the last thing I have from my mother – and while I know it would survive just fine for weeks without water, I don't know if I'll ever be able to just return home. My life has changed drastically because of one incident.

Could it have been avoided? With the days coming and passing I found myself lost in thoughts more and more, detaching from my current situation whenever I was alone. There is a grudge festering in my chest. I'm angry at myself, angry at the Shadows, angry at the doc.

I should have been more cautious, more vigilant. I should not have trusted, should have postponed the crime scene clean-up when I met the Shadow. I'm angry at him for his betrayal, yes, but I'm most angry about how easy it was for him to get closer to me. Why was it so easy…

The way he just knew so much about me, how he managed to enter my home more than once. The audacity to even let me know with his little gift. It must have been fun watching me, knowing how easy I am to manipulate.

And then there is the doctor. He tries, he tries so hard to make me feel physically better, assists me in my recovery, brings me food, or makes sure Mrs. Blair does. Yesterday we started with some exercises, to get my muscles accustomed to moving again. It's still painful but I can endure it. My will to finally be able to move again is stronger than the persisting hurt.

But I can't forget how he was just there, watching, assessing my situation. After Thayer had shut him up he just… he did nothing to help, nothing to intervene. Part of me knows he's right. Part of me knows that we both wouldn't be here if he had done anything. Thayer probably would have slaughtered us if he had just made as much as a noise.

But it doesn't change anything. I know he's right but my head can't accept it. The hurt can't understand how someone can just sit by and watch, unmoved, unchanged. I would have had such a hard time to just sit back and let it happen. Everything inside me had tried to help, to do something, or I would have needed to remove myself from the scene.

But he just sat there, with a cold, analytical expression, waiting for it to be over. Is that what it takes to be a doctor for the lost and forsaken? I try to rationalize it; I try to find an explanation. But I can't.

I'm angry. I'm hurt. I'm devastated. And I'm locked in place. If I could move, if I could do something to get my mind off of these thoughts it would maybe change something. But I have to sit it out. And I don't know how much longer I can bear my own thoughts.

A knock at the door. "Yes," I whisper, barely loud enough to reach the door. At least speaking became easier the past days and as long as I don't move too much, my energy is well preserved. Gone are the days of countless hours of sleep and rest. Now I'm just sitting here, awake and idle.

I hate being idle. But my hope that the doctor would enter the room for our exercise session is shattered the moment I lay eyes on the Shadow. I squint my eyes in annoyance. He's the last person I want to see right now.

"Hey Sunshine, doc told me you're making progress."

"Not fast enough."

"I bet," he snorts amused. He knows I hate being idle, he knows how much I dislike being here, locked into position, unable to do anything. He knows. And I don't want him to know. I don't want him to know anything. I want him to forget me and everything that connects us.

"He has to attend to an emergency downstairs, but don't worry, he didn't forget about you."

"Reassuring." My answers are cold, short. I want to distance myself from him or else I may try to jump him again, hurting myself in the process.

I watch him enter the room properly, closing the door behind him. On his way towards me, he grabs one of the two chairs and drags it up to my bed. The old wood screeches under his weight as he sits down. I wish I had his confidence and trust in daily objects to just do their job well enough.

The poor chair looks and sounds like it would break any moment under his heavy body, but it holds. That's more than I could ever expect of myself… Huh, that's a weird thought, isn't it?

"We have to talk, Sunshine."

"Do we? I don't really feel like talking if I'm honest."

"I thought as much. You're both so extremely stubborn it's palpable."

I can't help but soften my expression. He has a way of catching my focus. I wanted him to turn around and leave but I find myself yet again curious of whatever he is implying. It's not just his words, it's that soft expression on his sharp face. This stupid face that always seemed so relaxed. Looking at him I always felt like life's too easy, at least for people like him.

"Then again, that's maybe why I care," he chuckles, and now I am confused – again. I hate it. The way he just throws my thoughts and feelings around is annoying. I find myself stumbling whenever he's near. When did this start exactly? And what does it mean?

"Alright, talk then. It's not like I could stop you, even if I tried," I sigh. There is really nothing I can do about it, is there? He's close enough so we can talk comfortably, but far away enough to make sure I won't try to launch at him again. And something tells me that's a precaution he takes for my well-being and not his.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"Little birdie told me I betrayed you."

I take a deep breath. Of course, the doc and the Shadow seemed familiar with each other from what little I could gather. It makes sense they would talk about it, but maybe the doc was hesitant to mention it. At least that would explain the Shadows' remark about our stubbornness, I guess. I'm speculating, but it keeps my mind busy.

Because honestly, I don't want an explanation. I wouldn't be able to believe it anyway, so what good does it do? It doesn't change anything. He'll just make it harder for me to absolutely despise him. And that's the only thing keeping me from doing irrational things and plummeting deeper into this mess of emotions right now. Being angry and disappointed is easy.

And still… I want answers. I always do. I'm conflicted and therefore unable to talk. I can't say anything so I keep silent.

"There are things I can't tell you, Sunshine. Not because I don't want to, but because it would put you at risk."

"I already am at risk. Don't worry about that," I huff. At risk, right. Thayer is already a danger to me, the moment I leave this place I might die by his hands. The fear of him finding me hasn't vanished yet, it's lingering, keeping me awake. Sometimes I hear steps outside of my door and expect him to burst through my door at any second.

What more risk could there possibly be? The Shadows? Laughable. I am already broken, if they wanted to they could just sneak in here and get it over with. The only reason this though hasn't reoccurred is due to their help during our escape. I still think they want me dead, but I also think the doc has a play in why it didn't happen yet.

"Don't think I don't know Sunshine, but there are layers to this city you can't even grasp. There is someone out there who wants you dead, that's for sure. But giving you any more information will just result in your stubborn head running right into a trap."

I knit my eyebrows in irritation. What does this even mean? I've always been in danger some way or another, but that comes with my job. I'm meddling with the dangerous affairs of dangerous people almost daily. I always knew that or else I would never have partnered up with Thayer, the most dangerous of them all.

"You want to tell me I've been set up at the Duke's?"

"Sharp as always. I knew I may come to this, but in the end…" he shakes his head, and there is something on his face I can't quite place. He seems… troubled? I never expected to see anything like it countering his usual laid-back expression. But there it is. What game is he playing?

"I wasn't really able to get you out of there."

"You want to tell me you've been there to protect me? You know that sounds like bullshit, you could have told me when we met."

"Right, we both know you hadn't believed me."

"I had."

"You hadn't. Don't fool yourself, Sunshine."

I feel anger rise inside my chest, the same anger that's been brooding over the past few days. Who does he think he is? I feel my muscles tense up and the moment I feel the sting in my stomach I try to loosen up again. It's not worth it. Calm down, Eon, calm down.

"I've warned you before and you ignored it just fine. Thayer had warned you, and you ignored it. If you don't listen to him why should you listen to me? You've been so lucky up till now-"

"Wait a second," I interrupt him. My anger subdues, makes place for a sudden burst of fear that shakes my voice.

"How would you know?" I feel the tremble creep into my fingers. I did suspect him to have some kind of connection to Thayer – potentially even working for him. While I know that the Shadows' network is massive and that they could know basically anything if they just wanted to, I can't reason with my anxiety right now.

There is nothing I can tell myself to ease the knot that's forming in my guts. And even worse... I can't hide, I can't run. Is this it? The moment he'll unmask his intentions and just end me?

"Sunshine…" His voice is suddenly calm, assuasive even. I know I can't hide my emotions very well, not since Thayer… not since he… broke me. Is this what trauma feels like? Being absolutely powerless in the eyes of fear? Is there nothing I can do to get a grip on myself?

"Eon…"

"Answer the damn question!" I can't hold the fear locked up. I didn't want his apology, I didn't want his explanation, but right now I need answers. Even if these answers came in the form of a knife.

"The Bear profits from our network once in a while. We keep it tight and never let anyone know where the information really comes from. We go by many names when handing out pieces of information, we distribute it to the ones who need it most – or can make the most out of it."

This doesn't help. It just adds oil to the already burning fire within me. I avert my eyes, let them scan the room rapidly for a mere second, then I close them. I try to breathe deeply; I try to keep my composure. I really do.

"When I learned about certain things I made sure he would be informed accordingly. Just enough to maybe prevent you from taking on a job that could potentially kill you."

"It didn't help much, did it now? Why would you think he was in a position to order me around?" I whisper, my voice crumbling, but this is important, I need to get through this. This may be the only – maybe even the last – chance I'll ever get…

"I didn't. I hoped you wouldn't be so stubborn to go against his warnings, hoped that a warning from him may come so unexpected that you'd at least grow suspicious. And when I realized that you would I tried to be there."

"If you really wanted to protect me you didn't an awful job." I click my tongue annoyed, though my annoyance is only a façade trying to mask my insecurity, my hurt, my doubts.

I hear him sigh, but before he can even get another word out my anger breaks loose yet again, "You elevated him, you gave him the goddamn high ground to punish me for ignoring his warnings. You enabled this…!"

I'm furious and yet my words dwindle. I want to scream and yell, but while my head is shouting at him, my voice can't. I can't. It feels like there isn't enough air in this room to speak as much as I want to.

Maybe… he didn't betray me. Maybe he tells the truth. Maybe he really tried to help me, to protect me, but I'm still here, in this bed, hurt and crippled, ridden with anxiety and dread because of him.

"Eon… Look at me." He leans towards me; I can hear it. His voice just got ever so slightly closer, softer. I bite my lower lip, trying to collect myself. I'm trying to sort this fear and anger out or else he'll see it.

Who am I fooling? He already knows, doesn't he? Or else we wouldn't have this conversation. I open my eyes; my lids feel heavy. Suddenly I feel exhausted, drained. Giving up would be so much easier and maybe… that's what I'm doing right now. I'm giving up my stubbornness and face him.

There's still quite a distance between us, while he leans towards me, his elbows resting on his knees. But somehow it feels different, closer than it actually is. Safer even. It's hard drawing a knife in his current position.

He looks me in the eyes and I feel the anger retreat. It leaves behind my sorrows, my loss, my fear… And this longing for comfort. Ever since that night, I miss my mother so dearly. She was always in my thoughts but recently it's been so hard without her. How did I manage all these years?

"I am sorry…" His voice is a mere whisper and I can't tell if he's really sincere or if it's just me who wants to hear something in his tone that might not even be there. But if it's the latter there is nothing I can do about it, right? If sincerity is what I want to hear I may as well take it even if it's just a soothing lie.

"I can't right this wrong. I can't patch you back up together. I can't take away your pain, your fears, and your doubts. All I can do is try to help you through this, try to be someone you can trust. If you let me I want to help you. And if you don't… All you have to do is tell me, and I'll be out of that door."