72__Safe place

Amelia sat in tense silence, biting her thumb nail as she watched the live broadcast on the television.

Arson and Marc’s psychologist were giving the public more information on his condition today. Arson would be revealing to the world the kind of relation that existed between Marc and his father. Once they knew that the bastard had abandoned his only son at an orphanage after his mother died, they would understand that there was no way Marc would ever go as far as covering up murder for that man. They would see that if anyone hated Arthur Aryan, it was Marc Aryan himself.

“How’s it going?” Elizabeth asked quietly, coming back into the living room with a glass of water for Amelia. “Drink this before you pass out, you haven’t eaten a thing today.”

Taking the glass, Amelia took a sip, her eyes going to the tablet in her lap where the live comments were flashing by. Biting her lip, she read each comment with rapidly growing hope.

“Are they being nice?” Liza asked cautiously.

Amelia made a sound between a laugh and a sob. “They’re cursing.” She looked at Marc’s sister. ‘They’re cursing Arthur Aryan.”

Smiling sadly, Liza looked away, wiping her red-rimmed eyes. the broadcast and hearing the things Arson and the psychologist had revealed… it had been haunting to say the least.

Her father deserved to be in jail. He deserved to be in hell, really, but hopefully that would come soon.

Her heart broke for her brother. To think that he’d never even mentioned the stuff he’d had to go through. Alone, at such a young age.

“I don’t know what I’ll say to Marc,” she said softly.

Amelia shook her head, reading the comments. “Nothing. Just let him know you love him.”

Wiping her nose, Liza nodded.

The comments doubled as the viewers increased and Amelia felt her heart lurch. “Oh, my God. Everyone’s….” She bit her lip in tears. “Everyone’s on Marc’s side.”

Liza nodded. ‘They’d have to be devils to not be on his side.”

Wiping her eyes, Amelia got out of her chair. “I need to show him!”

She ran for the stairs, hurrying to Marc’s room.

She got to the locked door and started knocking. “Marc? Please... please, let me in! I need to show you something.”

He hadn’t seen her since their conversation a few days ago and Amelia had given him his space, but now she needed him to see this.

She needed him to see that nobody thought he was monstrous or evil. Everyone could see what an amazing human he was. Why couldn’t he see it himself?!

Weakly, her fist stopped knocking, both relief and heartbreak making her cry. “Marc, you *have* to see… Everyone’s saying you’re amazing. Th-they can all see how much you went through, they’re all commenting hearts and all these cute emojis…”

The room behind the door was silent.

Desperately, Amelia tried the handle. It clicked open.

Gasping, she looked down at it. Without wasting another moment, she rushed into the room.

It was empty. Just as she was about to run out, his bathroom door opened and Marc came out, dressed in black sweats and a t-shirt.

He stopped when he saw her, his hair damp against his forehead.

“Marc.” Amelia slowly approached him. “I need to show you.”

He took a step back. “I need to be alone.”

She nodded. “I’ll leave, I promise. I just need you to see—”

He turned away, taking his gaze away from her face. All that hope in her eyes was tormenting him. He had nothing to give her in exchange for her hope in him. Only more disappointment.

“Please, Amelia. I don’t want to hurt you any further. I’ll be leaving the country again as soon as the trial is over, there’s absolutely no reason for you to put any effort into me. I’m not worth it and you deserve far better.”

He walked past her and she desperately caught his arm. “Wait! Just look at this and then decide if you’ll leave.” She held up the device in her hands, forcing him to look.

He drew in a deep breath, tensing against the touch of her fingers on his arm. “I… don’t know what this is.”

“Comments from the live broadcast happening right now,” she explained. “Everyone’s making their own conclusions while the trials happening, so Arson and your psychiatrist are setting the record straight for you. They’re discussing the less private details of your condition, the orphanage and everything that’s happened with John Aryan.”

His brows drew together in a frown. “Why? They’re trying to make everyone despise me even more?”

She shook her head. “Read the comments! Look at what they’re saying.”

His eyes focused on the words rolling by on the screen and he read them, a deep part of him already shielding up for painful slashes of hatred.

The slashes never came. Holding back the flood of relief and hope that wanted to pour out, he stared tensely at the kind words on the screen. His brain was refusing to compute any of it. He knew what he was and what he’d done, so why was everyone acting as though he was innocent?

All of them should’ve been cursing at him like Dr Lilian May.

A thick lump clogged his throat and Marc swallowed hard, feeling prickles attack his eyes. “What about it?”

“What about it?” Amelia said softly. “Don’t you see, Marc? Nobody else sees you as the monstrosity that you see yourself. So now, people have a clue about all the stuff you’ve kept so secret, but all they have to say for it is *good* things. Nobody *blames* you, we all realize that you were literally a child who needed care. You needed love and a safe place but the world never gave you that. None of it was your fault, so please, *please…* don’t take the blame.”

Her words rang with sincerity, filling his mind as his gaze focused on her face. Every stroke of emotion in her expression, in hereyes and on the quiver of her lips, it all painted a picture of sincerity.

Hot tears spilled out onto his face for the tenth time this week and Marc slowly raised a hand.

His fingers trembled and, turning his face to the side, he shakily wiped his eyes. He was fighting his emotions, battling them back because he was afraid to believe that this was real.

It had become nearly impossible to shut out the words his father had screamed at him when he was a child.

It had gotten so bad that those words started coming out of his own mouth.

But now, Amelia…

His face twisted with pain, grief breaking through as his tears flowed faster.

Amelia had completely silenced Arthur Aryan’s voice in his head.

Her mouth parted, eyes widening as she saw him break. “Marc.”

Throwing the tablet onto his bed, Amelia threw her arms around him, holding him tightly. “Marc…”

His body shook, silent sobs pouring out of the trunk he’d tightly locked them away in.

His lips parted on shaky breaths as he held her, both pain and relief tearing through his heart.

“Aw, my love,” she whispered, blinded by her own tears. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here, you’re not alone.”

His arms tightened around her, the restless anxiety that had always existed in the depth of his soul being slowly lulled to rest by the warmth of her embrace and the soft comfort of her words.

He couldn’t hold back anymore, couldn’t stifle his pain. With Amelia, he found a place to let it out, to show all his fears and all his pains, grieving his mother, his childhood and everything else that was taken from him.

She took it all in, letting him pour out all the emotion he had kept bottled up for so long. He’d be okay now, Amelia realized gratefully, holding him in her arms. How grateful she was.

She’d just lost her father just over a week ago and her entire life had been turned on its ear. Letting the things that had happened out of their control separate them was something Amelia would not be allowing. She had already gotten so much taken from her.

But, Marc, he was someone she was not willing to lose.