Chapter Six

(Leo's POV)

I watch in slow motion as Violet's skin drains of all color and her feeble body drops to the ground, incapacitated by some invisible force. As panic overrides my once abundant anger, I find myself rushing to her side. 

“Violet!” I shout while pulling her loose body into my arms. Adrenaline burns my blood as waves of startled thoughts race through my frantic mind.

“Help! Somebody call for help!” I cry, heaving her strangely light form off the ground. Violet doesn't stir as I carry her down the stairs and towards an awaiting car. 

“What in the world is going on?!” I hear Violet's Aunt question on the way out, but I don't spare her a moment. After gently placing Violet in the backseat, I climb in next to her and the vehicle bolts for the nearest hospital. 

“Please, wake up,” I mumble between strained breaths. Her fair complexion remains unnaturally white and I brush back the fallen locks from her face. As we pull up to the front doors, the area is quickly filled with doctors and hurried voices. 

“Mr. Whitlock, wait here,” a nurse states, stopping me from following Violet into the examination room. My skin is damp with sweat as the stark white of the waiting room triggers a tension headache.

After what feels like an eternity of waiting outside the hospital room, the doctor and nurse finally emerge.

“Mr. Whitlock,” a middle aged woman greets. Gathering any remaining semblance of composure, I force a professional stance. The doctor's face is neutral as she shakes my hand and places Violet's medical papers under her arm. 

“How is she?” I hesitantly inquire, my tone laced with restrained fear. The doctor gives me a sympathetic smile before guiding me into the room.

The large room is lightly furnished with a large bed close to the windows. Laying with her dark hair neatly moved to the side, Violet is attached to various machines.

I feel my stomach churn as unpleasant memories threaten to resurface. Forcing them back down, I turn my attention back to the doctor’s current analysis.

“Her physical condition is fine. We can't seem to find evidence of any illness or damage. The only remaining reasons for her sudden reaction are psychological,” the doctor carefully explains. 

“Psychological?” I think, furrowing my brow at her last statement. I occasionally run a hand through my messy hair as the day's events replay in my head.

Suddenly, a realization struck me so hard that I almost doubled over. Catching my breath, I glance over at the doctor. 

“Doc,” I slowly began. “Is it possible for someone to be traumatized with their name?”

She seems to consider it for a moment, glancing from Violet to me. After a few more moments of contemplation, she nods.

“It wouldn't be impossible, just unusual. If perhaps the name was associated with a traumatic event or memory, then it could very well become harmful,” the doctor confirms. 

Guilt washes over me and I find myself sitting down beside Violet's bed. “So if I hadn't said her name, she would have been alright?” I ponder to myself, confusion still rampant in my foggy mind. 

“So that's why people don’t call you by your first name,” I whisper beside her, a pain swelling in my chest.

“There is no need to worry, Mr. Whitlock. If that is the cause, she should wake within the next few hours. Excuse me,” the doctor explains before exiting the room. 

I sit immobile in frigid silence. The only sounds resonating through the cold room are those from the machines. As I hold Violet's delicate hand in mine and lower my head, salty tears drip down to the floor.

My normal proud image has now crumbled into a weeping mess. The heart wrenching memories I tried so hard to bury, built up and shattered all my defenses. 

“I'm sorry,” I manage to say between breaths. The world slowly fades into the background as the pain I could never forget replays like a movie. 

Flashback

“Leo!” I hear my bright-eyed mother call from the kitchen. I rush down the stairs and swing around the corner, youthful energy radiating off my person.

“I'm here! What's up?” my teenage self inquires with a carefree tone. My mother chuckles at my bed hair before gently smoothing it out.

“Help me make breakfast. I'll let you flip the pancakes,” she convinces me whilst turning back to the eggs. I can't stop the grin on my boyish face as the kitchen fills with familiar sounds and smells. 

Father was constantly busy at work, so my mother and I were always there for each other. As plates fill with pancakes and scrambled eggs, I turn away to finish the last batch.

“Mom, do you think we could go to the market today?” I innocently inquire with my back turned. When no response is heard, I whip my head around to see a horrific sight.

Collapsing to the hard ground, my kind hearted mother was no longer full of life. She is silent and still, with no sign of her previous spirit.

“Mom!” I cry repeatedly before frantically calling the ambulance. However, humans are only so fast and some people can't be saved. 

Even though I did my best and stayed by her side till the very end, I couldn't save her. “If only I was faster, maybe she would have lived,” I think to myself every day.

Time moved on, but I never forgave myself. The guilt eats away at me every second and I miss her so much that it's painful. 

As the gut wrenching images disappear into the cold hospital room, a gentle pressure on my hand catches my attention. I look up to meet gazes with an exhausted looking Violet, her eyes overflowing with concern.