Page 29 of Petals and Strings (Broken Melodies #1)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Caspian

M y mind was slowly waking up. The medication had taken me back into its claws, but I couldn’t fully blame just that.

It was my own fault as well. I’d been avoiding letting go.

Change was fucking hard.

Audrey had suggested I start writing my memories. I was never one for pen and paper so I’d settled in the computer lab, instead. Our stuff was monitored, and our access very limited, but I started a journal of sorts.

Memories. Unfiltered, the good and the bad, starting with that first meeting with Tatum.

I relived each one, my hands moving on autopilot as they played out in my head. The sounds, smells, sights, all falling onto the pages as if I were a man possessed.

It was a strange feeling. Like I finally had control over my own mind.

Yet, I was terrified it wouldn’t last. Every good day was always snatched away.

As I hit the last key, ending this entry, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. It was the same every single time. Now that it was there, in words, immortalized, I didn’t have to cling to it quite so tight.

Three days since starting, and countless memories, yet I could still picture my girls as vividly as ever. They hadn’t faded.

That alone made it feel like I could breathe again. That some of the weight that threatened to crush me had fallen away.

I forced myself to get up and grab clothes from my room. I wanted a hot shower to wash away the lingering sadness so I could call Sarah again.

We’d talked every day the last few days and I wanted to keep up with that streak the best I could.

Nancy’s face lit up when I walked out of my room. “Oh, you’re up and moving, so good to see, Caspian!”

“Thanks. Feeling alright today,” I admitted. At least for as long as Dr. Malik and his meds stayed far away.

And maybe the memories.

“I’ll walk you over so you can get some peace,” she promised, snagging my shower kit from the nurse’s station. “Don’t make me regret it, though.”

She slid a razor in and gave me a look.

“I’m fine,” I reassured her. “Just pop open the door and check in if I take a while.”

It was better than someone watching you wash your body. That didn’t cross my mind most days. Hell, she’d washed me more times than I cared to admit.

But right now, I wanted to do it myself. To prove I had a handle on my mind.

The water felt incredible as it rained down on me, washing away the grime of this place. I took my time washing the bodywash over every inch of myself, ensuring I was actually clean.

Then I moved onto my hair, taking time to wash and condition the tangles out of it. Maybe I’d even let it hang loose today like I used to.

Tatum loved when I did and so did I. Maybe Audrey would, too.

God, I really lost myself. That was enough to make me sick, my stomach churning. I’d let them take my family and my entire being.

Years. I’d lost years here.

Fuck. Sarah.

I braced myself, waiting for grief to join the shame. It was there, but more dull than usual, throbbing in the background of my mind and heart, hurting, aching, but not drowning me in its tumultuous depths.

“Caspian?”

“I’m still fine,” I called back with a chuckle. Her breath of relief echoed out in the room.

Not wanting to keep her waiting forever I dug out the shaving cream and razor, cleaning up my face carefully.

By the time I was dressed, I felt like a new man.

“What’s on the list for the rest of today? Do I have time to call home?”

Something passed on her face but she didn’t press, just nodded. “Of course, I’m sure Director Cross would be thrilled you’re feeling up to it. Go do that now, I’ll return all this, and then meet the group for art therapy in thirty minutes.”

There wasn’t an artistic bone in my body but I nodded like a good patient and rushed up to the front office. I don’t think I took a breath until I heard her voice on the other end.

“Caspian,” she greeted excitedly. There was a voice in the background, a soft and sweet one that for some reason was achingly familiar. Yet, I couldn’t place it.

“Are you not at home?”

“Uh, yeah, I just have a friend over. Let me step away.” The phone muffled as she said something then it was quiet when she took her hand away. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“Like someone lifted the hood that’s been tied around my head,” I admitted on a sigh. “It’s so weird to feel like I’ve missed so much time.”

She took a shaky breath, giving me the first sign of anything but forced cheerfulness. As much as I loved it, I wanted to know more about her and her life.

“Are you going to disappear on me again? I don’t think w… I can take it.”

I closed my eyes, trying not to let shame hit me again.

Stay present. Be here. Face the harsh truth.

“Not if I can help it. I don’t know what's changed, Sarah, I really don’t.”

“What’s that tone? What are you keeping from me?”

How did I admit to my sister, the one who saw all of my pain unfold, that I might have found a scent match? I’d be stupid to lie and say I didn’t notice how strong Audrey’s scent was. How her being near me drew me out of my head.

She was like a lighthouse in the storm, calming the raging tides and drawing me to shore, where I would be safe again.

“There’s a new patient in my ward. An omega. Her scent is different, but so good. Hell, she’s Tatum’s opposite in every way. But the way it affects me is…”

“The same?”

“Yeah.” It was a broken whisper and her silence was just as heavy. For several minutes we didn’t break it.

“You know it’s alright if she is? And honestly? If she’s bringing you back to me, how could I be anything but grateful?”

“She’s making changes,” I admitted, swallowing hard. “Some of the staff wasn’t great, the therapist we had, did nothing to help me through this like they should. He’s gone now.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Don’t cause waves, Sarah. Not when I’m on the mend. It’s done.”

“You pay far too much for that fucking place for them to be slacking. I’m calling,” she hissed fiercely. My sister was an alpha in a beta’s body when it came to protecting those she loved.

“But, can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t let them change my meds again. Tell them you want approval every time,” I pleaded. “Make them call you as my guardian.”

“Done,” she growled. “They won’t lock you away from me again, Caspian. But take this time and really heal, let yourself make changes. Come home to me.”

“I promise,” I said. “We’ve got art therapy in a moment, so I can’t stay on much longer. But, I really do feel like I can do this, Sarah.”

“That makes me so incredibly happy,” she said. “Now go get your painting done and call me tomorrow. I’ve got a Director to talk to, leave me on the line.”

“Love you, Sarah,” I said, waiting for her to say it back before I put the receiver on the desk and walked out.

“Done?” Cross asked, studying me. Tatum always did say I wore my feelings right on my face. Guess she was right.

“Yes. She’s on the line still, she wanted to check in with you as well,” I said, hooking a thumb behind me.

He nodded, clasping my shoulder before heading in. I didn’t pay attention to the clock to know if our call ran over, but I headed for the art therapy room just in case.

Audrey and Ansel were walking side by side, bodies touching as they walked. I’d never seen the male omega talk or be more than a ghost.

She’d brought him to life, too.

Rydell was still missing, and I was itching to know more about that, but I just stood back, waiting for them to pass.

Audrey spotted me, her face lighting up with a smile. “Caspian.”

I loved the way she said my name in that raspy voice of hers.

“Audrey,” I greeted. “Thanks for the idea of starting a memory journal. It’s been more useful than years of therapy with Theo.”

She snorted and let out a soft laugh. “You aren’t wrong, he should lose his license. But, I’m glad it worked. You coming in?”

Why was this so damn awkward?

“Yeah, though no one wants to see what I can do to a canvas.” I flashed her a smile, watching as a gorgeous blush crept up her cheeks and flushed her neck. Her scent warmed, filling the air between us.

Ansel reacted, a small smile sweeping over his face. I knew I looked the same.

She was so different. Open, honest, so damn strong. Fierce if pushed. Yet, she wasn’t afraid to lean on others as well.

“None of us can, except this one,” she said, giving Ansel’s hand an affectionate squeeze. He gave her a smile, but still didn’t look at me. I didn’t take offense.

We all had our own issues and I knew it wasn’t personal.

“I’ll catch up,” I said, flickering my eyes to Ansel. She nodded and led him inside, settling at two of the easels in the back. I moved in front of her, not wanting to be too obvious but needing to stick close.

My alpha seemed to take a shuddering breath inside me, perking up and breathing her in. He’d been so absent that his sudden presence startled me. I rubbed at the ache in my chest, barely breathing as I marveled at the feel of him filling my chest.

Was I always this hollow without him?

I thought it was all my grief, the gaping wound left behind.

Now, I wondered if it was because both of our pain melded together into something so severe I couldn’t tell the difference.

The others filtered in, along with patients whose names I had no hope of remembering. The only one missing was Rydell, who was still in isolation.

Kane sat next to me, glaring at his canvas.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, pitching my voice low to not draw attention. If he wanted help from them he’d ask.

“I don’t want to paint. It always brings her onto the canvas and I don’t want to see her. I feel…” He trailed off as he ran a hand over the fading bite mark on his shoulder. “Angry. Resentful.”

“Paint something here, something you know in this life,” I suggested. “The flowers in the conservatory? The ash tree? Our group?”

He considered it, now studying the blank canvas instead of glaring at it then shifted his attention to mine.

“What are you painting?”

“Nothing recognizable,” I snorted. “My art skills are dismal.”

“Go abstract. There’s no wrong way to make art,” he said in a serious tone I wasn't used to from him. “Just let yourself feel and put it on there.”

I hummed as I considered it, wondering if I could make that work. “Okay.”

His lips tipped into a smile before he nodded back. “I’m going to paint our group.”

The art therapist called attention, asking us to work on something that brought about those feelings that keep us locked within ourselves. To convey them on paper. We knew this routine. She’d flit around, asking probing questions and sometimes getting answers in return.

I looked at the paints, grabbing darker shades of blues, purples, and black. A dab of white to turn black to gray. Without thinking, I swirled my paintbrush through the colors, mixing them just enough then sliding it over the white.

With Kane’s encouragement, I let the worry go. Instead, I just focused on what was in front of me and the feelings I’d kept locked away.

Once I started, I couldn’t seem to stop. I poured my pain into those dark colors, the shadows forming that told a story of what I’d endured. Of my anger for those men who took my family from me. The frustration with myself for not stopping it, for turning into this shell of who I used to be.

Then, it shifted as I mixed them lighter. Pretty blues that were a mix of light and dark, like Audrey’s eyes. Lilac, that was one of Lilly’s favorite colors. Green that was pretty and light, like the conservatory and its vines.

More colors joined the mix, the soft peach of her skin, the honey of her hair.

Then the lighter shade of mine, the pale flush of my own complexion and ending in a soft brush of our hands joining.

It was abstract. I doubted anyone but me could see the shapes forming amid the chaos. The soft swirling of our bodies riding out the storm. Around us was a wave of white as if it was protecting us from the shadows.

The therapist reached me, studying my painting for several beats. “Feels like change to me, Caspian. Good work. Nice to see you involved.”

She nodded once then walked off, leaving me to look at my canvas.

The therapist said it felt like change, but to me… it felt like hope.