All Chapters of Pathetically Beautiful : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Willow's POVThe echo of the knock startled me, piercing through the silence like a knife. For days, I had waded through the murky waters of my thoughts, lost in the whirlwind of emotions that defined my existence. The flat was my sanctuary, yet it also felt like a cage, confining me in its walls while I waited for the chaos to unfold around me.Steve was away, and although his absence lifted a heavy weight, the uncertainty that loomed was almost worse than his presence. Marco had not called on me since I last saw him, which was a relief but also a worry at the same time. And Brax's image danced through my mind—haunting and unattainable.Bracing myself, I tiptoed toward the door and peeked hesitantly through the small window. Relief and confusion swept over me at the same time when I recognised Brody, David's son, standing on the other side, shuffling his feet nervously.I hesitated for a moment before opening the door, expecting anything but this. "Brody? What are you doing here?" My

Willow’s POVI turned on my heel. Each step I took away from him felt like a wound in my chest, a painful reminder of the distance I had to put between myself and the chaos he represented. My heart was a jagged mess, a patchwork of anger, confusion, and something darker that I didn’t want to face. But I kept moving, one foot in front of the other, pushing past the ache in my chest, the tremor in my hands, and the raw ache I couldn’t name.The night air felt colder as I walked faster, the pull of the darkness surrounding me, making me question everything I’d just left behind. I could still hear his voice in my head, echoing, "You keep pushing everyone away. Pushing me away." But his words no longer mattered, not with everything else weighing down on me.My phone buzzed in my pocket, the vibration cutting through the haze of my thoughts. I pulled it out, already anticipating bad news. But when I saw the name David flashing on the screen, I froze. For a split second, time seemed to stand

Willow’s POVThe two men led me down the hall and into a room, their footsteps echoing behind me like a reminder that I was trapped—trapped in a life I couldn’t escape. I stepped inside, the door shutting softly behind me, and immediately, I turned to look at them and Mr. Young.He stood there, watching me, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. "You are not to leave this room," he said, his voice clipped. "You are not to tell anyone that you are here." His eyes flicked to one of the men, who handed me my phone. "We’ll leave you with your phone so you can talk to that cop friend of yours."My stomach twisted as I took the phone, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn’t giving me freedom. He was giving me a tether. A false sense of connection. I thought about David. But what could I say? There was nothing I could do.I took a breath, summoning what little courage I had left. "Please," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Don’t make me stay here."Mr. Young didn’t even look

Brax’s POVI couldn’t hold it in anymore. Every second of frustration, every ounce of fear, every drop of helplessness that had been building inside me for hours—the pain, the confusion, the desperation—I couldn’t keep it contained.I stormed forward, hands shaking, fury coursing through my veins, and before I even realised what I was doing, I grabbed my father by the collar and hurled him across the room. He crashed into the wall, his chair clattering to the ground, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t care. I just needed him to feel something. Anything.“You promised! You promised me you’d protect her!” I screamed, my voice a raw, guttural roar that shook the walls. “You told me you would protect her and keep her safe! But where is she now, huh? Where is she?”The words burned in my throat as I approached him, my chest heaving, every breath filled with the rawness of the rage that was consuming me. He looked up at me with those cold, emotionless eyes, that same detached gaze that I had alw

Brax’s POVThe house felt like a maze of shadows and whispers, each corner taunting me, every step more restless than the last. My heart was pounding in my chest, my mind still a storm of fury from the confrontation downstairs. But as I stormed down the hallway, my ears caught something—a sound, faint but persistent.Ringing.I froze, every muscle tensing as I listened more intently. It was coming from one of the rooms, one that no one had ever stayed in. The door was always closed, always locked, like it didn’t exist. My breath hitched. The phone. The same phone I had seen her texting on.My gut twisted, and I didn’t think—didn’t process. I just moved.Ignoring my father’s voice calling from behind me, his tone filled with annoyance and command. “Brax, just come back downstairs. We’ll talk about this.”But I wasn’t listening. Not anymore. All I could hear was that phone ringing, over and over, like it was pulling me in like it was pulling me towards her. She was in there; I knew it.