Memory distortion? I think it’s those two words that have everyone in a chokehold. There’s no guess on how long it might last, how much she may have forgotten, or how it will impact her life going forward. All we know is it’s the most likely symptom, filling us all with more dread.
Every minute that passes comes with a crippling sense of hope and fear. Hope that she’s already out of her memory distortion, and fear that she’ll never open those pretty eyes.
My brother rises from his seat, distress stiffening his spine as he clenches his hands and rounds the bed to stand at Ivy’s side. He stares down at her with furrowed brows and a tight jaw, and I know he can’t process what he’s feeling right now. I don’t thinkany of us can, but he’s struggling the most. It’s hard to portray your insistent dislike for someone when you’re standing by their bed, pleading for them to wake up.
I wonder if he’s thinking about her first day here, when she fell from the cliff. He didn’t react quickly enough, and if Teddy hadn’t, what would have happened? Would he have been the one to trigger her magic? To make her go through this?
My hands clench in my lap as I shake my head, refusing to let myself get caught up in all of the what-if’s and maybes.
She doesn’t need any of that when she wakes up. She needs us to be present, alert, and patient instead of fighting our inner demons and placing our own stresses above hers.
“Someone needs to get in here and check her vitals,” Baron snaps, his jaw tight as his gaze spins to the door. He takes one step, but a huff from Hugo pauses him in his tracks.
“They don’t need to check shit. If she needs to rest, she rests. If you don’t like it, fuck off back to your dorm,” he growls, twisting the tension even tighter in the room as he works everyone to the edge of their emotional limits. My nerves tingle through my veins, willing me to react, but I grind my teeth together, forcing my beast to remain calm and at bay.
My tiger would love to rip free right now and take control of the matter, but even I’m aware that nothing good will come from that. Not when everyone is already so stressed.
Slowly, my brother spins on the spot to face Ivy’s brother. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,Hewy. Ifyoudon’t like it,youcan fuck off.”
They move in sync, standing toe to toe as they stare off with one another. Ember lurches from her spot by the window, darting between them in a flash, while the rest of us watch carefully.
“The pair of you are going to have to leave if you don’t shut your big mouths and focus on the person who matters the mostright now. Don’t make me speak with the dragons and have you both dragged out of here.”
They both blink at her with wide eyes, and she doesn’t falter, standing her ground as she threatens them with their own type of torture. Neither of them want their dragons getting involved right now; that would force them to leave, and despite the tension, they don’t want that. Not really.
Another flash of lightning across the sky, completed by the rumble of thunder that echoes in the distance, and it seems to expel some of the strain Hugo is handling.
He takes a step back, and I exhale gently, relieving the pressure growing inside of me as my attention turns to the poor lighting in the room. It has a soft yellow glow that does nothing to fill the room with calm. If anything, it gives it a dark, dingy feel and affects the room’s energy. But the staff are insistent that it’s to help Ivy come around.
It’s not doing a great job so far.
Another exhale, and I dare to look at my fated mate. My heart cracks, but my tension softens as I take in her features. Her blonde hair fans around her face, soft and clean, not a single drop of blood staining her locks anymore. There’s no crimson on her skin, no gaping hole in her forehead, but I can still see it there if I close my eyes. Instead, she lies peacefully, angelic almost, with her hands at her sides on the soft white sheets, a hospital gown hanging a size too big on her.
Struggling with the memory, I’m quickly distracted by the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door again, and when the shadow casts through the glass, I lurch to my feet when it doesn’t quickly disappear. But as the door opens, I’m disappointed to see Professor Viola standing on the other side instead of a medical professional.
I’m not the only one discontent with her arrival as the air thickens and irritation threatens to run high.
She runs her hands over her navy pants with a sad smile on her lips. “I see our phoenix hasn’t risen yet,” she states, and Archer climbs to his feet too, standing closest to the door.
“She’s notouranything.”
“Of course,” she replies, a fake smile on her lips as she opts to soothe him instead of barking back like she did the first time she made an appearance. “Any updates?” she continues, spinning her attention to Hugo, who shakes his head. “I’m sure she will rise when she’s ready,” she adds, lacing her hands together as she clears her throat. “I must speak with you all about the important matters at hand. I was hoping to wait until Ivy was also present, but that’s not possible, and it mustn’t delay any further.”
“Maybe at least have the mindfulness to ask us to step out of the room. Considering the circumstances, I don’t think this is the appropriate place. Do you?” I grunt, cocking my head at her, and her eyes narrow a millimeter, but I see it.
“If you will,” she murmurs, stepping back outside.
The room closes in on the five of us: Archer, Teddy, Baron, Hugo, and me.
“I’m not leaving her side,” Teddy bites, his nostrils flaring as he eliminates the distance between him and Ivy, taking a firm position at her side. “The rest of you should go. Ember will keep me company,” he adds, looking toward the sprite perched at the end of Ivy’s bed, nodding with certainty.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue, to demand to stand here too, but he’s feeling it worse than the rest of us, and the quicker Viola says whatever she has to say, the faster we can all be back in here.
With a nod, Archer leads the procession out of the room, while I hold up the end of the line, glancing over my shoulder briefly at Ivy’s sleeping form before I close the door behind me.
“Professor?” I ask, encouraging her to get to it as we fill up the small waiting area outside Ivy’s room.
The same gray chairs we’ve claimed in her room are lined up against the cream wall, while a small television plays in the corner on an old wooden bookcase.
