Picture on the side is of Nikki Hahn, character inspiration for our lovely Leah. ^_^

Thank you for reading! I hope you'll like this chapter a bit better than the previous one. :)

Chapter edited by crystaltmlinson.

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Chapter Three

Waiting for something with a bated breath was a queer feeling in itself. It sent a series of emotions coursing through your nerves, and all were directed towards one person or thing that was making you wait, no matter if they deserved it or not.

My situation in that moment was a similar one. The time that Ethan took to answer my question was spent feeling curious, uncertain, concerned, anxious, and frustrated, all because of the words that had yet to leave Ethan's mouth.

He looked me in the eyes with his rueful ones before turning to where Dr. Mitchell and Amanda were standing. "Are you sure it's alright to tell her?" he asked them, his hidden attempt at begging them to say no transparent to even myself.

Amanda's expression changed to one of compassion. "She's out of danger now, Ethan, and we will have to tell her soon anyway," she answered, encouraging him to tell me the truth.

The exchange made me dread Ethan's words even more, and the look on his face when he turned to me again told me how much it pained him to have to say those words to me. 

"Just tell me, Ethan, please. This— this feeling of not knowing... it scares me. I'll be fine, I just want to know," I told him, giving his hand a light squeeze to urge him to say the words.

"You don't have to do it, Ethan. I can tell her. You-" the pregnant lady began to say, but came to an abrupt stop when Ethan shook his head at her determinedly.

"If anyone has to tell her, it should be me. It has to be me." Ethan's voice was grave. He looked at my hand resting on his and placed his other hand on top of it, patting it twice before taking a deep breath, probably gathering all the courage he could. "They died, Raelyn. Our parents died in the accident."

The tension in the room was almost tangible, and so thick that no words had the ability to cut through it. Ethan still didn't look me in the eye, while every other pair of eyes in the room were focused on me, waiting rigidly for me to respond. What response could I give, though? It wasn't something I had wanted to hear, and so, my first instinct was to try and tell my brain that Ethan had never even spoken those words. But, he had, and I had heard him perfectly.

"No!" My voice rose with incredulity. "They- th-they can't... die. I survived, didn't I? S-so, h-how could they die? They didn't. They couldn't." My voice lowered with every word, and my unwillingness to believe in reality diminished, too. My hands had grabbed the collar of Ethan's shirt without me realizing it, and I was venting my emotions onto him. A sudden gasp escaped my lips and my hands became limp, though still holding onto his shirt. "I don't even remember them," I whispered, looking up at Ethan with wide eyes. "Ethan, I don't remember them. I don't even remember my parents."

Ethan pulled me to his chest and wrapped his arms around me in a protective hold as I let my tears fall. I allowed myself to break down in my brother's embrace. It just felt natural to me, to share my grief with him. The fact that I didn't remember him didn't matter in that moment.

As my tears dampened his shirt, I felt the wetness of his own seep into my hair. Another hand came to rub my back and a few words of empathy reached our ears, combined with the sounds of silent sobs. Amanda and the other woman might have been in pain too, but I was sure that they couldn't even begin to understand the heartache that Ethan and I were going through, and so, their condolences felt like nothing more than pity.

"Dad died before the ambulance could even reach you. He died of a collapsed lung and heavy internal bleeding in his chest cavity. Mom, however alive when brought to the hospital, had faced the major injuries, and it was pretty apparent that she wouldn't pull through either. The truck had hit from her side of the car, crushing her body adversely. She had lost too much blood," Ethan muttered into my hair, his voice sounding devoid of any emotions. It felt as if he was just mechanically repeating the words to me that he had been told earlier. 

I could feel that even though it was difficult for him to tell me this, he didn't want to stop. He had been holding it in for a long time, and I wanted nothing more than to ease him of some of his pain, so I listened to his every word in complete silence.

I buried my face further into his chest as the tears kept flowing down my cheeks. He reciprocated by tightening his arms around me, but then he pulled away and his hands came to grasp mine. I looked into his eyes and saw remorse in them, an emotion that felt out of place in this situation.

"Rae, we had the funeral service this morning," he whispered, guilt lining every contour of his face. "I'm sorry. It had been the third day... a-and we th-thought you wouldn't wake up so s-soon, so we figured it was t-time we cremated them. Fuck. I am so, so sorry, Rae. I really am."

* * *

Ethan and I had held each other for a long time, and at last, our tears ceased to flow. A numb feeling had taken over me after everyone vacated the room to let me rest. My mind kept trying to bring forth the memories of the accident that had been stripped away by the stinging glass piece that, though physically removed, still left inadequacy in its wake.

Sleep didn't come easy to me that night, and whatever few hours of it I had got were tainted with unsettling dreams.

It was a lonely, dark street. I moved ahead on the path, the sound of my footsteps resonating in the silence of the night. Then, there was a car, in rollover state, with pieces of glass scattered around it on the asphalt road. The headlights of the car were broken and malfunctioning, flickering on and off at unsteady intervals. The smoke filled the chilly air, making me cough. I walked closer to the car and saw blood splattered on the cracked windows. A hesitant peek inside the car made three unmoving silhouettes visible to my eyes, and staring at them in concentration, I could outline the bodies of two women and one man. One of the silhouettes came to shake the shoulders of the other two from the back seat, trying to wake the lifeless shadows with futile efforts.

The focus was then shifted to the faces of the two inanimate bodies, which were covered in blood. The faces were featureless, having no shape or edges. No eyes, no nose, no lips, nothing. A horrified gasp escaped me as I took a few hurried steps backward, falling on the ground in alarm. That was when the real nightmare began.

The car, that I hadn't even paid any attention to before, began to change. One moment, it was a red sleek car, and the next, it was a black SUV. The car changed its color and model, though it remained in its dilapidated form. My eyes landed on the two bloodied faces again, and to my absolute horror, they had facial features now. They had eyes, a nose, and lips, all of which kept changing. Every second gave a new structure to their faces, as if mocking me with their forever changing features. That was all the dream was doing: mocking me.

I then turned to the trembling body in the backseat, realizing that it was myself. She started to crawl out of the window, and then she turned to look at me. A scream erupted from both of us as a metal piece fell on her head and I became aware that I didn't have a face to identify myself with either.

I jerked awake on the bed, panting and frantically looking around for the silhouettes, the car, and the road. I tried to piece together the nightmare, but I was only able to recollect bits of it, one of which being the inability to identify my own face. The remembrance had me bounding towards the bathroom in the corner of my room, uncaring of the voice that called my name.

Shutting the door after myself, I scurried towards the sink, resting my hands on its rims and staring straight into the mirror at my reflection. The blue eyes that stared back were sunken in, matching my somber face, dulled with so many overwhelming emotions. I stared vacantly at them for a long time, trying to catch a glimpse of the similar pain that I had seen in Ethan's eyes, but it just wasn't there. The suffering that my eyes held was all mine, for my trauma, for my affliction, and most of all, for my loneliness. Even though it was wrong of me, I couldn't help but feel only a distant sadness for my deceased parents and my pity for Ethan.

I brought my faltering fingers to my face, touching my skin in a cautious manner. I watched in the mirror as my fingers brushed upon my discolored and scarred skin, marked with many bruises and gashes. Turning my face to the left, I could see the surgical incision and the stitches that held it close from the corner of my eyes. A broad patch of hair had been removed from the right side of my head, just above the ear, from where the glass shard must have entered my skull. I wondered if the hair would ever grow back and was grateful that when let down, at least, my hair concealed the queasy sight of the wound.

With a sigh, I turned to observe my face again, trying to ingrain every minute detail of it in my head. Pale skin that flushed red at the merest of temperature or mood changes, earnest big blue eyes, naturally thin and curved eyebrows, long dark eyelashes, modestly high cheekbones, brown-auburn wavy hair that ended somewhere around my mid-back, and a slender figure that had to be at least 5'3" or 5'4" tall. 'Even with all the blemishes, I am beautiful,' I concluded in my mind, before deciding to fix my dishevelled appearance a little.

I washed my face before brushing my teeth with the fresh supplies that had been stocked in the bathroom, at long last discarding my atrocious morning breath. I then proceeded to remove the hair tie from my hair with slow movements, before trying to get rid of the tangles with the help of a hairbrush I had found in the bathroom. I had hardly even begun when I let out a loud yelp because the brush had ventured too close to the wound. Panicked, I dropped the brush and checked for any open stitches in the mirror, when a voice that I had been disregarding for so long eventually managed to catch my attention.

"Decent or not, now I am coming in," the person declared with a resolute voice before barging right in.

I came face to face with a perturbed looking man, most likely in his late twenties. His dark wash fitted jeans paired with his light gray polo shirt suitably outlined his 6ft frame, showing off his toned muscles, and his matted light brown hair matched his jaded facial expression. His hazel eyes circled the room once before scanning me from head to toe, as if scouring for more lesions. "I'm alright. The hairbrush just came too close to the stitches, but fortunately for me, they aren't broken," I told him in an attempt to reassure him. It was a meager attempt though, since he held my jaw in a gentle grip with his thumb and two fingers, turning my face to the side and inspecting the stitches nonetheless.

The abrupt stiffness that had possessed my body eased out when he dropped his hand and took a step back. "It's a good thing they aren't broken. That would have been a problem. Why weren't you answering me, anyway? I was hollering at the top of my lungs that a nurse had to come in and tell me to shut up," he ranted, coming behind me and dragging me out of the bathroom by my shoulders, his movements firm, yet mild enough to not hurt me. "You shouldn't comb your hair by yourself. The wound is still healing and any damage could lead to complications. Sit. I'll do your hair for you," he instructed, motioning me towards the bed.

I stood with raised eyebrows, both confused and amused by his actions. He seemed to comprehend my obliviousness as he gave me a sheepish grin. He scratched his right eyebrow and chewed on his lower lip, a hint of a smile still present at the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry, I tend to forget the boundaries of personal space. Anyway, moving on..." he trailed off, resting his hands on my shoulders and making me sit on the bed. "I'm Daniel Bradshaw," he introduced with his hand extended for me to shake, "Dr. Amanda Summers' son-in-law, or at least, I will be once I manage to propose and marry her daughter, Natalie." He winked at me, making me laugh as I delightfully shook his hand. "I also work with Dr. Summers," he added, giving me a smile.

"Raelyn White. Nice to meet you, almost son-in-law of Amanda." We both chuckled at my response before he turned me around and started brushing out the knots in my hair.

"Just so you know, I'm only this hyperactive because I've been sitting by your side for almost three long hours with absolutely nothing to do."

I giggled at his words. "Sure, if you say so." 

I could feel him snickering behind me before a tranquil silence took over us, but only for a split second as Daniel soon began to speak again. "If you were wondering, Dr. Summers is talking to Dr. Mitchell in his office, and your family and friends are at your place, helping Ethan and your sister, Leah, pack their stuff, and yours too."

I simply nodded in reply, not bothering to ask why they were packing. I made a mental note to ask Ethan about it when I get to see him next, for now letting my mind wander to all the possibilities our circumstances may lead us to.

"It must be awkward for you, right? To be left alone with me when this is the first time we're officially meeting each other."

"If that's the case, you might just be the only person I wouldn't feel pressured in the company of, Daniel," I muttered, biting my lower lip due to my guilt.

"What do you mean?" Daniel asked, pausing halfway through braiding my hair and leaning over to glance at me.

I took a deep breath before releasing it shakily. "I don't know anyone who claims to be my family or friend, Daniel. They are all new names and faces to me, but for them, I am a person who holds some meaning in their lives. They knew me. They might even have understood me, and it all intimidates me. They must have some expectations from me, and I'm worried I'll let them down. I have this perpetual fear of being judged, of being compared to my previous self."

I fidgeted with my fingers, looking down at my lap and waiting for Daniel to speak. When he didn't for a few seconds, I decided to continue. "You, being a stranger meeting me for the first time, will have a clean slate to fill, regardless of the things that your girlfriend or anyone else would have told you about me. You will see me for who I am now and not compare me to who I used to be. Your presence is less daunting than my own family's. Ironic, isn't it?" I finished, snorting out a cynical laugh at my plight.

"Your every word makes complete sense, Raelyn. You're bound to be wary of a stranger who knows a lot about you. I can only hope that you know none of you are in the wrong here. You have to understand that your family cannot erase their memory of you, and so, they are bound to compare your new self with your old one. They are not incorrect in doing so, and you are not wrong in feeling wary of them," Daniel said, continuing to work on my hair.

He had let his words hang in the air around us for me to contemplate upon. After a few minutes of silence, he placed my skillfully weaved braid on my left shoulder. "Here, all done," he said, patting my shoulders. I turned around to face him again with a smile of gratitude gracing my lips. "Give them and yourself some time, Raelyn. Either they will get used to seeing you under this new light, or you will get your old self back." Daniel gave me an encouraging smile that had me smiling back with optimism too, but I frowned a second later when Daniel's next words left his mouth.

"Anyhow, how are you taking the court's decision of giving Ethan and Leah's guardianship to Mr. Summers instead of you, as was initially stated by your parents in their will?"

My parted lips and wide-eyed look must have notified Daniel of how his words were still news to me, owing to the fact that he started cursing and giving remorseful looks to the tiled floor. "Shit. You didn't know that. You weren't supposed to find out like this," he said, hitting his forehead with his fist before muttering incoherent words to himself. "Fuck. I'm in deep shit. Alie is going to beat the living daylights out of me."

He turned to me once again with an uneasy expression, nose slightly scrunched, eyes wrinkling at the corners, and lips flattened in a thin line. "Any chance you'd be willing to forget I ever said that and agree to braid my hair while I talk about my feelings and problems?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders and saying the next words like they were the most obvious thing one would say in such a situation. "It's only a part of the tradition, just saying."

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A/N: Hello, my lovelies! How are you doing today?

My Highlight of the Chapter: The dream. I don't know why but every time I envision it, it leaves a strong impact on me. There is something so... unsettling about it, so ghostly and scary. Leaves me shuddering every single time. What did you think of it? Was the dream absurd for you?

What was your highlight of the chapter, if any?

Questions of the Chapter: This chapter's questions are simple: What did you think of Daniel Bradshaw? Your first impression of him, your expectations from him in the future, do you want to see more of him ahead in the story, any prophecies regarding his and Raelyn's characters? Did you like him or were you wary of him?

What are your thoughts on the entire chapter, the characters, the scenes, anything and everything?

Don't forget to let me know through your comments and votes, so that I'd know whether you're enjoying the story or not and can also thank you for reading it! Follow me to get updates on this book and on any other works that I write in the future! :⦆

Hugs & Kisses,

Shagun