Where I Belong - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

I woke up to the sound of silence. I could feel the softness of a pillow under my head and the warmth of a blanket wrapped around me.
I blinked, and the world around me slowly came back into focus. The room was dim, not dark, however, I wasn't in my room. I felt disoriented, not knowing where I was.
It wasn't until I shifted, did I feel how sore my body was. My throat felt raw and I tensed up remembering what caused me to feel like this.
A quiet voice cut through the noise of my thoughts and bought me back to reality.
"Olivia?"
Turning to face the door, I saw Theo standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. He took a few slow steps forward towards the sofa on which I was lying on and behind him I could see the other two people in the room. Elijah was leaning against the wall and Silas was sitting on the armchair, his knee bouncing up and down.
I could feel the heaviness of their attention on me. All of them watching, waiting for me to do something, but I didn't know what.
"Hey," Theo said, his voice quieter than normal. "How are you feeling?"
"I-I'm okay," I whispered, hoping he would believe me. 'Okay' was the furthest thing from what I was really feeling but I wasn't going to burden them with the real answer.
Theo didn't seem convinced. He didn't say anything at first, just nodded slowly, his brow furrowed in that way he always did when he was thinking.
"Okay," he said after a long pause, his voice a little tight.
The silence stretched for an uncomfortable amount of time and I could sense there was something they all wanted to ask me.
Then, the memories hit me like a wave.
The scars.
I had completely forgotten for a moment, caught up in everything else, but now they felt like the only thing in the room. I remembered how Theo had stood there, his gaze freezing when he saw it. That mark on my back. The one I'd tried so hard to keep hidden.
Elijah seen them too and I had no doubt he had told the others about it too. I couldn't forget the way Elijah's eyes had flicked to them with that doctor's precision, like he knew exactly what kind of pain it took to leave marks like that. But he hadn't said anything.
They all knew. They all knew now.
My hands instinctively moved to the edge of the blanket, curling around it like a lifeline, like I could pull myself back together if I just focused on the fabric beneath my fingertips. I wished I could disappear. I wished I could vanish into the bed, sink into the pillows and just not deal with it.
I didn't want them to look at me with sadness and pity.
The scars told a story I wasn't ready to share, but I knew I couldn't avoid telling them about it forever.
The room was quiet now, too quiet. I could hear the soft tick of the clock in the corner, but it felt like the silence was pressing down on me, waiting for me to crack. To say something.
I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, trying to stop the shame flooding through me.
"Elijah?" I whispered, my voice shaky.
He moved a little, like he'd been waiting for me to speak. "Yes?"
"Did you...did you see the scars?" The words felt heavy, too heavy to say out loud. I barely managed to push them past my lips.
There was a long pause. I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I couldn't look at any of them.
Elijah's gaze softened, but he didn't look away. He didn't flinch. "I did," he said gently, his voice calm and professional, but not distant. "But Olivia, you don't have to explain anything to me, okay? You don't owe me an answer."
"I didn't want you to see," I whispered, my hands trembling as I tightened my grip on the blanket. "I didn't want anyone to know."
Theo shifted slightly, like he wanted to speak but was holding back. His jaw was tight, like he was fighting something inside of him. I didn't need to hear the words to know what he was thinking. I could feel his anger simmering beneath the surface, and it made my chest tighten even more.
I didn't want him to be angry. Not for me. Not over this.
"Liv, you don't have to hide from us," Silas said, his voice trying to break through the tension. He sounded light, but I could hear the uncertainty there too, like he wasn't sure how to make me feel better.
I swallowed hard, but I couldn't stop the tears that threatened to spill. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that they wouldn't look at me differently, but I could feel it. I could feel the shift.
"Please," I whispered, the plea hanging in the air, even though I didn't know what I was asking for.
Theo's voice was softer when it came, quieter, but it felt like a lifeline, something to cling to in the storm. "You don't have to say anything, Olivia. We're here for you, okay? You don't have to talk if you're not ready. We'll be here when you are."
The silence stretched again, the weight of everything hanging between us. I didn't know how long it had been since I had spoken, but the tension in the room was palpable, like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for me to do something.
Finally, it was Theo's voice again that broke through the quiet.
"We're having dinner downstairs," he said, his tone still soft but with a hint of uncertainty, as if he wasn't sure how to approach me anymore. "Are you okay enough to come down? You don't have to, but we'd like to have you join us if you feel up to it."
I felt my heart race at the thought of being around them all, being expected to act normal when everything felt so wrong inside. I didn't want to be alone, but the thought of facing them felt like too much.
I nodded again, barely, my throat tight with unsaid words. I wasn't sure if I was ready to face anyone, but I didn't want to disappoint them, either. I wanted to feel normal again, even if I wasn't sure how.
"I'll...be down in a minute," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. It felt weak, unsure, but I couldn't bring myself to say more.
Theo hesitated for a moment, his gaze softening as he took a step back toward the door. "Okay," he said quietly. "We'll wait for you."
As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, I let out the breath I'd been holding. The room was quiet again, but this time it wasn't suffocating. I had time. Time to breathe, to gather myself before going downstairs.
But even as I stood, my legs shaky beneath me, I could feel the weight of the silence pressing down. They were waiting for me. They were all waiting for me.
They hadn't given up on me, and somehow, that made everything feel a little more overwhelming. They didn't expect me to be fixed, to be normal again, but just knowing they were there, it was like this weight on my chest I didn't know how to carry.
I looked down at my hands, now trembling more than before. I couldn't be alone anymore. I wasn't sure how much more of this quiet I could handle.
I sat at the table, my hands folded tightly in my lap, staring down at the plate in front of me. The smell of roast, fresh bread, and vegetables lingered in the air, but it all felt distant, like I wasn't really part of this moment. I was here, but not really here.
Silas sat across from me, his knee bouncing nervously under the table. His usual light-hearted energy was nowhere to be found. He fiddled with the edge of his napkin, his eyes flickering toward me every few seconds, but not quite meeting mine.
Theo was at the far end of the table, his arms crossed over his chest and his posture stiff. His jaw was set tight, and he didn't look up from his plate. He barely touched his food, pushing the pieces around with his fork like it didn't matter. I could feel the tension radiating off him.
Elijah sat beside him, his eyes trained on the table. He didn't push me to speak. He didn't ask any questions. He let the silence linger, but his presence was steady, grounding. The way he carried himself, so calm and collected, made it feel like everything would be okay – even when I wasn't sure it would be.
Eros sat directly across from me, his usual quiet self still and almost unnerving tonight. His presence was always a little distant, like he was above the noise of everything else. But tonight, it felt like he was pulling it all into himself, his silence pressing on the rest of us like a weight.
I tried not to look at him. I couldn't. The way he was watching me made me feel exposed, like he was waiting for something, or maybe expecting something from me. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I didn't want to. But when I dared glance up from my plate, his gaze was there, unwavering, dark eyes trained on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle uncomfortably.
He wasn't looking at me the way he normally did – detached, almost bored. This was different. This was searching. It wasn't judgment, but something else, something more familiar and unsettling. I wasn't sure if he was waiting for me to speak, to give him some kind of answer, or if he was simply trying to make sense of whatever was happening between us, between me and all of them. But in that moment, I felt as though he could see straight through me, straight to the broken pieces I wasn't ready to acknowledge.
Zane, of course, was the most composed of us all, though even he couldn't entirely hide the sharpness in his gaze. His elbows rested casually on the table, but I noticed how his fingers twitched as if he wanted to reach out but wasn't sure if I would let him. Zane always had a way of observing everything, and even now, his eyes flicked between me and the others, calculating, always considering.
The food was good – better than good, actually – but my appetite was nonexistent. I forced myself to take a bite of the potatoes, but my throat was dry, and I barely tasted it. I could feel the weight of everyone's gaze on me, even though no one was overtly staring. It wasn't a look of pity or judgment, but a shared, unspoken understanding.
Silas tried to fill the silence with a half-hearted attempt at conversation, his voice light but shaky. "So, uh, I finally beat Theo at chess today," he said, a weak attempt to pull the group back to something normal.
Theo, who had been barely engaging with his food, finally looked up at that. His eyes flashed with something close to irritation, but he didn't respond. Instead, he simply grunted, a short, dismissive sound, and went back to poking at his plate.
Zane raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting to Silas with a look that said, really? But Zane's lips twitched ever so slightly, betraying a hint of amusement despite the somber atmosphere.
Elijah, who had been quiet until now, cleared his throat. "It's good to see you guys playing again. Even if Theo doesn't like losing," he added with a small, knowing smile.
But the smile didn't reach his eyes, not completely. There was something there, something hidden, like a quiet understanding that the lighthearted banter couldn't erase. We were all aware of what was going on, and none of us could pretend otherwise.
I couldn't stand it anymore. The awkwardness. The silence that wasn't really silence. I placed my fork down carefully, my hand shaking as I did. The sound of my plate clinking against the edge of the table felt too loud, but none of them flinched.
"Elijah?" I whispered, my voice barely above a tremor. His gaze shifted immediately to me, those brown eyes softening.
The moment I said his name, something inside me seemed to snap, like a dam breaking under pressure. He was there in a heartbeat, his presence steady and grounding, but it didn't stop the flood of emotions that crashed over me.
I couldn't stop the tears. They burned as they slid down my face, hot and fast, and before I could even make sense of what was happening, the sobs were wracking my body, each one more painful than the last. My chest tightened, the pressure in my throat unbearable as I gasped for air, but it was like I couldn't catch my breath.
Elijah didn't say anything at first. He didn't need to. He simply knelt beside me, his hand resting gently on my shoulder as I buried my face in my hands, my body trembling with the force of the emotions I couldn't control.
"I can't do this," I whispered, barely audible, my words choked by the sobs. "I don't know how...how to be normal...how to be okay..."
"Sweetheart," Elijah said softly, his voice low and soothing. "You don't have to be okay right now. You don't have to be normal. It's okay."
But it wasn't okay. None of it felt okay. I felt like I was sinking, drowning in the weight of it all – the fear, the anger, the memories I didn't know how to face. The scars that no one had seen before. The ones I didn't want anyone to see. They were all so real now. They weren't hidden anymore. They were right here, exposed, raw, and I couldn't take it.
The thought of facing them – their pity, their confusion, their concern – was too much. I could feel it. I could feel their eyes on me, their unspoken questions hanging in the air. What happened to you, Olivia? How could someone do this to you? Why didn't you say anything?
The shame of it, the guilt, the feeling of being broken, of being unworthy, it was all crashing down on me. And I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop the tears. I couldn't stop myself from falling apart.
"Elijah, I'm s-sorry," I sobbed, my voice barely a whisper as I turned away from him, trying to hide my face, to hide the weakness.
His hand tightened gently on my shoulders, urging me to look at him. When I did, his eyes were full of nothing but understanding. There was no judgment or pity, just compassion.
"You don't have to apologise," he said, his voice steady and calm. "You don't have to be sorry for this. You're not alone, Olivia. We're not going to let you go through this by yourself. You don't have to hide from us."
I closed my eyes tightly, the words hitting me like a blow, but it wasn't a harsh blow. It was soft, gentle, like he was pulling me out of the darkness I felt trapped in. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that they would all be there for me, that I didn't have to carry this burden alone.
But the weight of the past, the way it had always been my burden, was too much. It was all too much. I was scared. Scared of letting them see the truth. Scared of the moment when they would stop looking at me with compassion and start looking at me with pity.
I let out a broken sob, unable to hold it in any longer. The tightness in my chest, the suffocating feeling, was too much to bear.
"I'm so scared," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I don't know how to fix it. I don't know how to make it stop...how to make it go away..."
Elijah's hand moved from my shoulders to my back, his touch warm and steady, guiding me to lean into him. And just for a moment, I let the tears come, let them soak his shirt as he held me, his arms surrounding me like a shield.
"I know you're scared," he whispered, his voice so gentle. "And that's okay. But you don't have to fix anything. Not right now. Not alone."
I couldn't find the strength to say anything else. I couldn't speak past the sobs and the overwhelming feeling of being lost. But Elijah didn't try to force words from me. He just held me, his presence was all I needed.