by Anna Collins
Freya
"O-M-G! No!" I screamed as the fire hit his chest and began to burn him. "Zack! Why did you do this?" I cried out.
I was amazed and surprised too when the fire didn't burn him at all, instead the solid ball of the fire melted into liquid gold and spread all over his organs. His shirt was ripped off and his ribcage, heart and even the veins of his body were glowing with the shine of fire. It looked like his blood had colored itself with the golden color and was illuminating all his body.
The tattoos on his body became more visible as the glow of fire reached them too. With awestruck gazes, I took in the sight of that unnatural beauty.
Zack's eyes were opened wide in shock "Freya! why am I not burning? Am I dead or what?" he asked.
"I have no idea," I said without blinking.
Then I looked around, everyone had the same reaction as me. This was the perfect time to plan an escape.
As if Zack had read my mind, he reached to me, picked me in his arms and ran like a storm. And the crowd of ghostly figures jumped in to follow us.
Zack
Maybe it was a stupid move to run away like that. But that's all I could think at that moment.
I was running so fast that I didn't even care to look where I was going.
"You are so fast" commented Freya.
"Are they behind us?" I asked.
"I don't think so, they are no match for your speed," she said.
"Freya, what's all this?" I asked.
"I don't know Zack, but we will find it out sooner or later. For now, let's get out of here. Do you know where the exit door is?" she asked.
"Yes, I know. And I'm shocked that you don't know it." I raised an eyebrow.
"Why will I know this?" I asked.
"Because this is the basement of Hudson Mansion and Caroline Hudson showed me the way down to the basement" I informed.
“Caroline? How did she know about this?” I narrowed my eyes.
Billionaire Games - Book 9
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Freya
And just like that everything changed! It felt as if they never existed. My whole life had turned upside down. It happened all over again, and I so wished I could say the pain was lesser this time, but I couldn't. In fact, fate had churned the wheels of my life in such a way I could only stare in shock. A part of me tried to convince me all of this was a nightmare; when I would open my eyes, I would learn to smile again.
I clutched my blue sweater and white scarf across my chest, in a vague hope the warmth of the woolens would make me feel a bit better. I sighed, and my breath formed a cloudy stain on the reflective glass. Wiping it out with my sleeve, I looked at the sky through the vintage garden window of my living room. I had a deep bond with the sky and the stars; they always listened to me when no one else did.
At first, the plain fiberglass showed me my own reflection. My skin looked as dark as the insides of my heart, and my once bright and hopeful eyes now seemed small and had lost every bit of their sparkle. For a moment, I tried to find the old hopeful Freya, but then I told myself she had been lost, she would never come back again. With all the burden in my heart, I force opened the heavy windows to inhale a gust of life.
The pinkish blue sky was hiding behind the glacier mist of the evening haze. Creamy clouds were waltzing all over, painting their color all around. The signs were enough to guess darkness was about to claim its realm. The singing white doves dancing to the tunes of happiness were scared away to their safe heaven.
Everything around me seemed to be resting in a solemn silence. The sky was falling down to bits to embrace the little green wildflowers lying abruptly on the ground. I kept staring at the little drops of whiteness the smooth breezes had carried along to my face. Unlike the howling and biting winds of New York, the winds here seemed to be gentle and soothing, or maybe the entrapped feelings of my heart made me feel the wind differently.
One after the other, tiny glittering fairy lights started illuminating and soon the dull, sleepy street got back its life. Ahh how could I forget; we were in the middle of December, and the shops and restaurants were all decked up with gorgeous bright, eye-catching decorations to fit into the Christmas crowd. The holiday vibes were everywhere, it was the time of the year when everyone hugged even their worst enemies. I wish life had given me the chance to celebrate this.
"It's snowing!" cried out my little brother causing me to jump and look down at him.
He was smiling and dancing in the snow, pure joy reflected right from his olive green eyes. Suddenly a hint of jealousy started to form in my heart. I was jealous; he was allowed to forget every single pain that had caged us, every ounce of the pain that had ripped my heart into pieces. Yet, I couldn’t even cry or mourn over it.
"Come back here! I'm gonna slap you hard if you catch a cold," I warned with my ‘I-am-ready-to-kill’ face.
In return he made a face at me and sang in a silly voice "Na, na, na, na, I'm making an angry snowman. I will name it mad Freya," he stuck out his tongue at me.
My forehead wrinkled, "Wait! I will show you how mad Freya looks like," I growled and ran downstairs to catch him.
My original intention was to hold Eric by his ear and pull him inside the townhouse. How dare he not listen to his big sister, but my tracks froze into the snow as I saw him laughing and playing with some kids. They were trying to make a snowman. Eric was so much into playing he had discarded his yellow sweater and was fanning his face with it. Then he snatched away a candy cane from a little boy, who frowned and started crying with the sound of sirens.
The hint of a smile faded on my face as this unusual behavior struck me. Eric was not a kid, he was only two years younger than me, but he was acting like a six-year-old. And it all happened on that fateful night. That darn, disgusting night which came like a tornado and destroyed all the leftover I had labeled as 'peace and happiness'.
It happened exactly one month ago, on that dark night when I was forced to act like a coward. As the whole scene played in my mind, my body started shaking uncontrollably, and it wasn't because of the cold. The inside of my heart wanted to howl, cry and pat my head with the ground but all I could do was to stand still like one of those wax statues in Madame Tussauds.
After all those decades of waiting and suffering this heart-wrenching pain; it was so damn pathetic I wouldn't even wish it on my worst enemy. It was 8:00 pm and I was pacing in front of the main gate of my Condo. There was a strange kind of dead silence on the streets of New York, and I understood exactly what nature was trying to indicate. But I had no idea something worse than what I imagined was already on my way.
That night, when my eyes were searching for a person who could hug me tightly and tell me everything was gonna be all right, my long lost mother finally gathered all her courage and called me. I received the call without even checking the number because I thought it was from Rick or the hospital providing me with an update on Kate's status. My breath stopped when I heard the voice, maybe this was the first voice which had reached my ears after my birth.
"Freya, how are you my dear?" she said in a soft motherly tone. Maybe this was the warmth my heart was seeking.
"Mom" the word barely came out of my mouth while I held the cold iron clad entrance gate for support.
"How did you make it so long without us? I was mad at you and thought you would fail and eventually come back to us. I even stopped your father and Eric from contacting you. But you proved me wrong my dear, just look at you. You are not the Freya who used to stumble on her feet, now you are an independent woman, who can rule over anything or anyone. I'm so proud of my daughter. I am so happy God has gifted me with a daughter like you," she spoke in the most delicate way possible; she had never spoken like this to the fat and ugly Freya. This was the tone and the words which might have stopped the tears of the old Freya, who used to think of herself as a mistake of her parents. No, she was the one who made me feel like this, she used to tell me I was nothing but a heavy
burden of thrash.
Tears rolled down my cheeks, not because her words were too sweet, but because I realized what a mean woman she was! She used to hate me when I had nothing, she thought I was useless, and I wouldn't even make it one day without her. However, when she saw I had the capability of buying everything I wanted, now she was suddenly proud of me. Wow! Mother, you could be a perfect replacement to that witch Rebecca.
My mouth clenched in disgust. But I didn't say anything to insult her. After that, I talked to dad and Eric; we spoke in tears. They complained a lot and said mother had kept them under her oath and had forbidden them to contact me in any way. Mother told them if she found out they had reached me, then they would see her dead body.
"You did the right thing," I answered.
Now, mother was keen to see me. She broke the news they were currently at the airport and would be boarding the flight to New York in less than an hour. I was so happy I was jumping on my feet, after so many years of waiting, I was finally about to see my family.
I ran home and started making preparations for their arrival. I wanted to treat them in the best way possible. I forgot about the troubles in the world and got busy selecting the best bed covers and the tastiest foods for them. I knew Eric was a fan of Mexican tacos and dad liked the simple chicken fries with salsa. And for mom, I ordered a piece of lettuce, knowing how figure conscious she was. Even at the age of 50, I was certain she looked young enough to resemble my older sister.
I got tired and rested my head on the couch; my happiness knew no boundaries. I was waiting to see them all in one frame. All my sadness and anxiety had vanished with the news of their arrival. I even forgave mom for being so mean to me.
The loud ringing of the landline telephone shook me, interrupting the soft nap I had taken on my white leather couch.
I found my face on the headrest of the couch, surrounded by a poodle of drool. Jeez! When did I fall asleep? Was it morning already? It surely was, and the golden rays of sunlight answered my question hitting my eyes with their sharp presence. Ok Ok! I get it, it's morning. I shook my head aiming for the sun as if it could see me. Running my fingers in between my throbbing eyebrows, and wearing a look of disgust, I went ahead near the kitchen counter to receive the call.
"Hello, am I talking to Freya Lawrence?" said someone with a Spanish accent. The woman's voice kinda sounded sad.
"Umm…yes, you are. May I know who is calling?" I tried to return the politeness.
And then she gave me news which made my head spin 360 degrees. All I could see in front of my eyes were some thick layers of haze.
The lady had called up from a public hospital near Florida. She informed me my parents never made it to the airport. They had an accident when they were only a mile away from the airport. They found three injured bodies, the middle-aged couple, who apparently were my mom and dad, were announced dead on the spot and my brother Eric was admitted to the intensive care unit. They found my number on one of the cell phones of the patients; when they couldn't reach my cell phone, they called up in the landline instead. The lady forwarded me the address of the hospital, but my ears had stopped working when she told me Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence were no more. All I could hear was a never-ending 'ping' sound ringing like a damaged cassette in my eardrums.
The intense smell of antiseptic liquid had numbed my nostrils as I stood hopelessly in the morgue of Square Hospital. I had no idea how Kate and Rick had gotten me here. The flight to Florida, the taxi, the hospital and everything surrounding me were blurry in my mind. All I saw was the two dead bodies covered in white blankets; the people who defined me, the reason behind my whole existence, were now nothing more but two lifeless bodies. My whole life flashed in front of my eyes; my first day at school, the way my dad let me hide behind his tall frame because I was too scared to face the world. It was the safest hideout in the world because I knew my dad would protect me from everything and everyone. Then there was my mom; I always wanted her to feel happy about me, and when she was finally proud of me, God took her away.
Who else could I blame it other than myself? It was my ill fate; it ripped apart the people who loved me the most in my life. As my shameless eyes tried to adjust to the terrible scene, the doctor on duty dropped another bomb on my already damaged ears, "Ms. Lawrence, we managed to save your brother, but..." he hesitated.
"But what? Let me guess you have got a brand new shocker for me," I snapped at the doctor with tears welling in my eyes. As if he was the one who had taken away my loved ones.
I felt Kate's arms wrapping tightly around my shoulder, "Calm down Freya," she breathed in my ears.
I closed my eyes, allowing the tears to roll down my cheeks. "What else have you got for me, doctor?" I looked up at the dropped and perplexed face of the young, hazel-eyed doctor, who raised his freckled filled face to speak to me. "This accident has affected him a lot, and he has gone into a state of psychological trauma. Although his brain is not reacting as it should, with proper treatment and your support, I am sure he will recover soon," he informed.
I was in such a condition that all of his words went right over my head. I didn't even get a single word.
Kate and Rick helped me arrange everything, and we were able to perform my parents’ last rites. They were buried in Florida, in a cemetery near our old wooden house. Everyone offered me their condolences while I stood like a lifeless figure; the only difference between me and the dead bodies was that I was breathing.
The days passed, and I tried to gather up my long lost courage; I still had a life to live, a brother to support and a business to run. I so wished I had been buried along with my parents, but no, I wasn't even worthy of this much.
As soon as Eric was discharged from the hospital, I took him home. The vague words of the doctor in duty that day came back to me. My brother was acting in a completely unusual way. The twenty-two-year-old boy behaved like a six-year-old. Instead of going to college, he was keen on playing with the neighbor's kids. His speech, his way of talking and attitude seemed to have taken a U-turn to his childhood.
The doctors in Florida called his condition "psychological trauma," this was the medical term for his weird behavior. His brain could not take in the ugly scene and after effects of the dreadful accident. Eric had always been the soft one; I remembered how he got scared even by the sound of thunder. He used to shiver, and then mom would take him in her arms and hold him till he calmed down. I wasn't a daredevil or something; the loud thundering and the sparks forming at the heart of the sky scared me too, but there was no one to hold my hand and make me feel better. I had no other way but to fight my fears, all by myself.
I took Eric to all the best doctors in the city, and they tried to help me, but nothing seemed to be making my brother feel all right. His condition remained the same; Eric used to address me as big sis and acted like a grumpy child 24/7. Things got worse when he asked about our parents, and I had no answers to give him; how could I tell him they weren't alive anymore? And I didn't have it in me to break the news of their death; his six-year-old brain would not be able to bear such a big loss, and his condition would get worse. I moved to Florida, with a blind hope in my heart. If Eric lived in our parents’ house, he would get back to his old self.
Living in this house was the biggest torture ever. Every little thing used to remind me of my childhood, so I ended up howling and crying; hiding those emotions from my little brother was getting difficult as time passed. Eric wanted to see mom and dad, and I had run out of excuses. One night during my regular conversation with Kate on Skype, I started crying uncontrollably, and the next evening I found Kate standing at the doorstep of my parents’ home. It felt like my entrapped breaths had been freed when I saw her smiling face, "I am here my friend, I can't let you deal with this alone," she spoke in a gentle tone as I threw my arms around her.
Kate happened to be a great help regarding handling Eric while I let my hair down managing the dealings of Wyatt telecommunications. I tried to atte
nd all the meetings via Skype, but I could tell my absence, and the communication gap made everything run slowly. I needed to be in New York or in the London head office to keep up with my involvement in the business. My lack of knowledge about the recent partnerships affected the company's reputation in the market.
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Freya
The whole world seemed to have lost its color; everything appeared to be vague, meaningless and empty. My attempts, my efforts of giving Eric the best treatment were in vain. Even the people in my neighborhood called my brother 'Mad Eric' behind my back. My handsome brother who was the lead guitarist in 'Athames' band was now wandering in the street like a nobody; the people who used to envy him were now making fun of him.
I buried my face in my hands and gulped down my tears of pain. No Freya, you can't lose hope like this, whispered the voices in my head. The suffocation was killing me, and even my cold and sad heart couldn't fight it anymore. The confident Freya was lost somewhere and what remained was a hopeless and looser Freya; so worthless she could do nothing for her brother.
When all the treatments offered by the most experienced neurologists in Florida failed to work, and I began giving up, Dr. Collins called me up. Maybe seeing me in distress, Rick had discussed Eric's condition with him. "Freya, you can take him to England, my friend Dr. Wright is one of the best neurologists out there. I'm sure he will be able to provide you with the best advice regarding Eric's case," suggested Dr. Collins.
So, that's where my life was standing. With Shawn's help, I managed to buy a townhouse in Liverpool. It was located a good eight blocks away from the private nursing home of Dr. Wright; he was treating my little brother, and within a short span of a month and a half, my brother seemed to be responding well to the environment around him. Eric's tendency to get hyper at small little things was coming into control by the regular therapies and medicines. Mr. Wright was very hopeful and confident about Eric. He assured me he would do everything in his power to ensure Eric came back to his previous, normal self.
