Family in Shambles

Chapter 51

"Helen?" Charles received no response once he entered the manor, not that he was surprised. He began searching through the rooms on the first floor carefully.

Each one came up empty, so he turned back and made his way up the stairs. A quiet thud directed him to John's and Abigail's room. He approached slowly, seeing that the door was already open, and peeked inside cautiously. "Helen?"

There she was, curled up in a ball on the bed and staring up at the ceiling blankly. Her eyes looked sunken in, her skin looked pale, and her clothes were ragged and in need of a wash.

She didn't react when Charles walked closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to her. He knew trying to comfort her would be useless, but staying silent was not something he wanted to do.

"I...I just got back from Saint Denis," he began gently. Helen remained ever so silent, still staring off at nothing, which made Charles frown. "I found them...their bodies, and brought them back." He glanced at her, waiting for some kind of response or sign of life.

"I figured...they deserve a proper burial." Finally, Helen blinked once, her eyes panning over to Charles slowly. He held her gaze evenly, reaching his hand out to her tentatively. She glanced down at it for a brief moment before resuming eye contact.

This time, her eyes looked glassy and began to turn red, which made Charles feel a tight, frustrated knot in his chest. His hand landed on her thigh, his grip secure but not too tight. "Come on...come outside with me," he whispered, inching closer to her.

Helen didn't reply, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. He quickly wiped it away with his thumb, his hand resting on her cheek delicately. Her blank expression finally broke, and it twisted into one of deep sorrow.

She flung herself at him with no shame, her arms wrapping around his neck and her head landing on his shoulder. Charles held her tightly, closing his eyes when her body trembled. She sobbed freely, her fists balling in his shirt and tugging somewhat.

He felt the fabric on his shoulder become damp. "I've got you," he whispered to her. He pulled her closer, dragging her legs off the bed and bringing her into his lap.

She didn't fight him or protest, and instead was now curled up in his arms as she cried. "I know...." he mumbled, one hand landing on the back of her head.

He began running his fingers through her hair, paying mind to not tug on any knots he encountered. Her breathing was laboured and shaky, and she sniffled every so often. "Why...?" Her voice was raspy and small, the single word coming out as a broken whisper.

It made Charles flinch, and he held her tighter. "Why him...? Why either of them...?" she continued slowly, sniffling. He let out a quiet sigh, glancing out the window to see everyone was watching the manor curiously.

"I don't know...I don't know...." he replied, his shoulders slumping. She sobbed one more time, attempting to take a deep breath but instead choked and coughed.

"Hey, take it easy...." He glanced down at her, seeing a glimpse of her face that wasn't buried into the side of his neck. "You can do it, breathe slowly," he said, rubbing her back. She tried for another deep breath, but it had came out shaky and fast.

"Again, slower," he urged, resting his cheek on her forehead. She complied again, breathing slowly and falling into a sort of rhythm. In a few moments, her ragged breathing and sniffling quieted down, and all that was heard were little breaths. "That's it...."

He took a deep breath himself, feeling somewhat proud of himself for being able to help her. "Can...c-can I go see them...?" she asked, lifting her head a little. Charles met her blood-shot gaze, her green eyes wide as she stared at him.

He offered her a small smile, brushing some strands of hair away from her tear-stained cheek. "Let's get you cleaned up first."