Page 14 of Petals and Strings (Broken Melodies #1)

Chapter Twelve

Audrey

S omething was off. Yesterday, things had seemed normal between us all. After my morning with my parents and reconnecting with my music, we’d gone to dinner. It was just as good as the day before, even if a little quieter.

Of course, Rydell was still a gargoyle, stoic and made of stone, watching over us and never quite joining.

Ansel, was Ansel. The omega was closed off, distant, and never spoke a word. I hadn’t wanted to ask if he could talk, but at this point just let myself assume he didn’t.

Today, it was different.

Caspian had been asleep all morning, finally drifting out of bed near lunchtime with Theo’s help, before he was dragged off to therapy.

By the time daily group therapy rolled around, he was back to his usual stupor. No sign of the man who was present and talking just two days ago.

Ledger hadn’t shown his face outside of therapy, and even he seemed subdued.

What the fuck was going on?

I’d considered skipping dinner to avoid the strange chill over the group, but Nancy found me just before.

“Hey, it’s med check-up time. Dr. Malik is requesting you,” she said in her usual cheerful tone.

“Is that what happened to everyone?” I asked, stomach churning with nerves now. If that was the case, sign me the fuck out of this place. They didn’t get to see us have a good day or two then snatch us back into the fog.

Yet, I didn’t do anything as she led me out. I knew what happened if I didn’t cooperate and I’d take new meds over pure sedation.

The last thing I wanted was to be vulnerable around alphas I didn’t trust. Never again.

Dr. Malik was waiting as usual. His clipboard was in hand and his dark eyes scanned over me in that detached, clinical way he had.

Everything he did or said seemed distant, as if I was an afterthought despite the fact I was supposed to be his focus at the time.

“You seem to have dropped some of your delusions. That’s good. I have a new medication that came in, I think you’ll like it more,” he said without looking at me. His slender fingers curled around his pen as he took notes.

“What does it do? What’s it for?” I asked. He ignored me, not saying a word as if he hadn’t heard me at all.

Finally, he looked back up and gestured for the chair. I sat mechanically, my body so tense I wanted to scream.

“And if I don’t want it until I know what it is?” I challenged. His eyes narrowed but he ignored it.

We both knew that outcome.

“Sleeve up.”

Another order I followed. I tried not to look as he picked up a syringe.

“What is it?” Another attempt I knew he’d ignore.

Dr. Malik didn’t answer as he pushed the needle into my skin, the sharp prick of pain followed by a burning sensation that flooded my veins. I whimpered as it spread, coursing through my bloodstream like lava, burning me from the inside out.

My head spun and my eyelids fluttered. I forced them open, looking at the doctor only to see a small smile on his face. There was a sick, twisted satisfaction in his eyes.

The fucker was enjoying this?

That was the last thought I had before I jolted awake again. My head spun as I tried to sit up too fast, bile rising in my throat.

It took several breaths before it subsided. I took stock of my body. There was no lingering pain, only a dull ache that echoed from my arm at the shot site. I lifted my hand, brushing shaking fingers over the site, wincing at the hot skin under my touch.

Tears burned at my eyes but I blinked them away. I’d been here long enough. He’d done the one thing I didn’t want, left me vulnerable.

The strange feeling continued as I stood on trembling feet. My vision pulsed around the edges and the world spun around me.

“Audrey, get it together,” I hissed at myself, clutching the cold, metal tray in front of me. The edges bit into my palms, the slight edge of pain clearing the worst of my dizziness. After a few steadying breaths, the world righted itself.

Fuck. What did he do to me?

I still had no idea what he’d given me. How is that not a required answer? To tell us what he’s doing?

Director Cross needed to wake up and realize he’d hired a monster.

This wasn’t right.

I heard movement further in the infirmary and pushed myself forward, stumbling out of the office before they could reach me.

The halls were empty and I wondered if everyone was at dinner. The thought of food nearly had me puking all over the glossy, marble floors.

Instead, I continued my off-balance walk until I found our wing. It was just as silent as the rest. I’d question if this was a dream if not for the few staff I’d walked past. Or stumbled, past. They didn’t seem to care either way.

I made it to my bed and collapsed, my head hitting something hard. I groaned, rolling off to see my violin.

The feeling that took over when I played last was calling to me like a siren’s song, urging me to escape until I felt like I had my bearings again.

I sat again, the wavering in my vision better now, at least. With my violin case in hand I headed for the conservatory.

My oasis to ride out this torrential storm.

Dr. Malik’s agitated voice echoed down the hall but I veered right, sticking to the walls with crazed eyes darting around to spot him. He was hissing something to Nancy, who had a look of concern on her face. She shook her head and I swear her eyes darted my way.

He started to turn, my entire body freezing but she said something else, returning his attention to her.

I gave her a nod of thanks before slipping further into the building and out the conservatory door.

The warm, humid air hit me first, then the sweet, rich, floral scent second. I breathed in deep, letting it lure me further into the room.

At first, I simply wandered around the winding path, free hand brushing against the petals until I found a spot that would hide me from sight.

It was tucked away in the back corner. A place Val kept extra tools, just out of view of the main path. I’d seen it during our tour and now it was the perfect spot that would keep me safe.

For now, at least.

I still had no idea what time it was, but from the stars dotting the sky and deep darkness surrounding the glass, it was late.

The glass was wet against my back, my shirt clinging to my skin as I settled against it, bracing myself as I settled down on the concrete.

In this corner, the scent of soil was stronger. The earthy smell a reminder of the version of myself I found just days ago under the heat of the sun and the exertion of tugging weeds.

The pack wasn’t mine. They were someone else’s.

I was broken, deserved to be here.

I’d been abused and used. It wasn’t my fault.

My family was awful.

Each new thought settled in my chest, reminding me of who I was now. Who I’d been and what was taken. I couldn’t lose it to these meds.

I wouldn’t.

With a sigh, I settled the violin against my chin and shoulder. My eyes drifted closed as the first notes started. This one wasn’t the same haunting melody, it was a slow, beautiful build. The notes blending together into a sweet serenade that echoed in the room, making it sound ethereal.

The hope it incited in me rose to the surface. It spoke of my inner strength, reminding me I could do this. I could fight back the demons, face the trauma those alphas caused, and find a way to live with it.

My first song bled into a second, this one slower, more like a lullaby. The notes were not quite somber, but they were low and soothing, a promise to myself.

Someone stirred nearby. My bow faltered as I looked around. My eyes caught on the glass, the reflection showing Ansel sitting against the glass nearby. I wasn’t sure if he was here before I started, but his hands were drifting over the page of a sketchbook, completely focused on his task.

Knowing it was him and he was functioning as well had me picking my song back up.

Honestly, I was grateful I wasn’t alone. I’d endured enough of that over the years to last a lifetime.

I continued on until my head ached and my fingers demanded a break. The final song came to a close, the last notes lingering in the air before I opened my eyes again.

They always drifted closed as I played, the music washing over me and pulling me to a space that felt like it was between worlds. Where only the music and I existed.

There was no pain, no trauma. No long nights in dark, cold cells. No twisted doctors and medication that took away what little remnants of myself remained.

This was my true therapy.

As I tucked the violin back in its case, the snug interior holding it safely in place, I took stock of myself again.

Playing had dulled some of the ache from my arm. My head hurt but that seemed to be the worst of it. No dizziness anymore.

I started to move when a paper caught my eye. It had the eggshell parchment color of a sketchbook and I knew right away this was what Ansel had been working on.

This wasn’t just something small. It was significant. Sketches were something personal, most artists like Ansel would keep them from others’ eyes, holding it close to their chest.

My eyes widened at the intricate charcoal sketch on the page.

It was me.

I looked… different, in his eyes. My hair was long, the waves looked healthy now, even in black and white. My eyes were closed, my violin in place as I played, and petals from the flowers were raining around me along with musical notes.

I looked like a goddess. It wasn’t haunting or sad, but serene.

This was something I would cherish. He’d picked up on the meaning behind the songs, transforming them into an image that screamed every emotion I’d laid out for him.

He saw me in a way I was struggling to see myself.

When I made it back to my room I tucked the image into the corner of the painting hanging over my bed.

I would look at it every day, remind myself that I was fighting to be that girl.

Not whoever Malik was trying to turn me into.