Song: Still Feel // half•alive

French heavy chapter, so translations will be written in [abc].

Not edited because I CBA, lmao. I hope you enjoy though!

•••

I wasn't one to scare easily.

Not much could scare me, anyways. I didn't have a fear of heights, bugs, or clowns. My heart rarely dropped in fear, and I've rarely had the fight or flight instinct overcome me. Feeling terrified wasn't something I was used to.

 I could count on one hand the times I distinctly remember feeling sheer terror. There were two instanced where I felt nothing but horror and fear. If something scared me, it was enough to send me into shock for weeks or maybe months.

As cruel as it sounds, I was expecting papa to die. I knew that it could happen any second after he was admitted into the hospital when his lung collapsed. Every time I went to school, I always waited for a teacher to walk into class and pull me out to inform me he died. What I wasn't expecting was for Dylan to pick me up and drive me to the hospital only to find out that papa wanted to end his own life.

Okay, Amber, I remembered thinking, you knew this was going to happen, it's going to be alright.

But it wasn't. Losing papa wasn't alright because papa was all I had in life. My friends were as shallow as they came, my mother ran away after birthing me, and as much as papa tried to enforce the whole 'la famille est toute' rule, I knew that I never had Dylan.

So when I woke up the next morning to go and have the eggs papa prepared just like he did every morning, I was struck with the horrifying thought that he wasn't there to make me breakfast anymore. He wasn't there to compliment my outfits anymore, help me with my homework or try to make Dylan and I develop some sort of bond.

Papa wasn't there anymore; he didn't exist, and the thought alone was enough to send me into a downward spiral filled with fear and anger. If I didn't have my dad anymore, I didn't have anyone. I remember the world around me dissolving into black and white, and all I wanted to do was lock myself in my room. I was mad at the universe for taking my best friend away from me, and I was mad at Dylan for wanting to be there for me now that papa was dead; that it was the only reason he started caring for me.

The second time I felt sheer horror was when the men broke into my house and held me at gunpoint as they stole everything away from me. As I stared at the barrel of the gun, I couldn't help but naturally feel terrified for my life. I couldn't die– I hadn't set out to do what I wanted to with my life. I had things to do; shit to accomplish, and I didn't want to die without leaving behind a legacy, just like my father.

Just like I could distinctly remember the hospital room when papa died, I could vividly picture the events of the robbery. Sometimes, when I was alone, I could see them breaking into the house and doing it all over again. Unlike papa's death, that affected me for a month and a bit, the robbery stuck to me like glue.

I had nightmares, panic attacks, I was hyperaware of my surroundings at all times, and there were little changes in the way I carried myself. Confidence was something that came naturally to me, but now that I lived in fear, I had to force myself to act display confidence. They stole my clothes; my essence. They were a piece of me, and to have them rip my clothes away from me was just as similar as having them shoot me right then and there.

The detective and his squad, however, were able to recover most of my stolen items. They focused mainly on selling my furniture, so most of my clothes were still intact. I brought everything back with me, but I asked them to donate the furniture to homeless shelters since all they did was remind me of the incident.

So, having my clothes back and securing the position of an editor at Fashionsitique was enough to slowly help me find my confidence again.

But the idea that I could die any second now was a thought that never escaped me, and becoming a mother didn't allow me to forget about it. I had to protect my child from all harm's way now.

So in a way, one thing terrified the everliving shit out of me.

And that thing was death. The death of my family members, of my child, of myself– it didn't matter.

I was now afraid of death.

•••

TEN WEEKS LATER

"Tous ces vêtements sont moche," Alexandre commented with a disgusted expression as he leafed through the clothes on the racks. [All these clothes are ugly]

I hummed in agreement as I looked through the items behind him. The clothes the detective found didn't fit me anymore, which meant I either had to wear Rose's maternity clothes or Dylan's collection of sweatpants. I settled on the latter given I didn't like the way the clothes she had looked on me. They were a reflection of Rose and not Amber, and as much as I loved Rose, I didn't want to wear flower-patterned baggy shirts.

"Il y a cette robe," Alex said in a tone that conveyed hope, and I turned around to find him holding a white maxi body con dress by the hanger. "C'est à la mode." [There's this dress. It's trendy.]

I shrugged and took it from his grasp. I twirled it around to get a feel of it before glancing back at him, "C'est la plus belle chose que nous avons trouvé." [It's the cutest thing we've found.]

He nodded gravely, before gesturing at it with a tilt of his chin, "Veux-tu l'essayer?" [Do you want to try it on?]

I shook my head, feeling exhausted from my lack of sleep. "Mais je vais l'acheter," I told him with a smile before spinning on the tips of my toes to walk towards the cashier. I heard Alex release a frustrated sigh from behind me and I tried my best to not react to it. [But I'll buy it.]

He's been trying to make me break out of my shell for the past two hours, but I've barely spoken two words to him. He came by with Nicka and Isaac, and when he noticed me sitting in the corner of the couch, dressed in Dylan's clothes, he told me he's taking me out.

Ignoring my brother's protests, he made me put on a pair of shoes and took me out. At first, it was a drive where none of us exchanged any words, but then he said something about how I should get clothes since what I was wearing wasn't nice.

I didn't bother telling him I had some maternity clothes that Dylan basically bought. My brother ignored the fact that I hated their designs and bought them anyway, with the hope that I'd wear them. He didn't anticipate me raiding his closet for sweatpants.

Within the piles and piles of clothes the detective managed to retrieve, I had found many of papa's hoodies. I sprayed them all in his cologne, and it was basically the only thing I wore now. Papa's hoodies and Dylan's sweatpants.

I thanked the cashier and picked up the plastic bag. Alexandre was waiting for me by the entrance of the store and once he saw me approaching, he plastered a smile onto his face and took the bag from my grasp.

"As-tu assoiffé?" He asked as he scanned the space around us. "J'ai vu un café dans le coin." [Are you thirsty? I saw a café around here somewhere.]

"I'm not in the–" I started, but Alexandre wasn't having any of it. With a silencing glare, he wrapped his hand around my wrist and dragged me to a nearby Costa. Without bothering to protest, I let him walk towards the coffee shop. He told me to take a seat wherever while he went to buy us some refreshments.

I found a coffee table surrounded by comfortable-looking couches, and I headed for that seating area. I placed two hands on the arm of the sofa and slowly lowered myself onto it. The pain under my chest intensified at the action, but I've grown used to it at this point. It apparently came with the diagnosis.

With a sigh, I leaned back into the chair and briefly shut my eyes. I'd gotten two hours of sleep today. I had a nightmare where the man killed Dylan. Despite knowing that the men all confessed to the crime and were now behind bars, I couldn't help but still have the nightmares. Doctor Vega had diagnosed me with PTSD, but since she was a therapist, she couldn't prescribe me any medication to help. It was a good thing too since I didn't want them. 

Adam had confessed to the crime at first and told the police officers all they needed to know about his accomplices. They tried to deny it at first, but once they were cornered with the evidence, they chose to confess. That meant that they only had to go to court for a sentence hearing. Adam got the lightest sentence since he helped the police officers while the others had to remain in prison for a significantly longer time.

A small sound was made from in front of me, and my eyes flew open in panic, but once I saw it was just Alexandre, I relaxed back into my seat. He didn't comment on my reaction and placed a red smoothie in front of me, a cup of black coffee for him.

He didn't say anything except watch me as I sipped on the smoothie he got me. It tasted like berries and I actually liked it. I felt a movement from inside me, and I placed a hand on my protruding stomach as I smiled lightly.

"Comment allez vous?" He asked, his lips centimeters away from the rim of his cup. [How are you?]

"I'm good," I replied as I swallowed the sip. I shook the container of the smoothie, "Merci pour le smoothie." [Thanks for the smoothie.]

"Amber," He said in a serious tone. He looked at me like a parent would look at their lying child and I sunk back into my couch. "Tu ne mentirais pas à moi, n'est-ce pas?" [You wouldn't lie to me, would you?]

Choosing not to reply, I focused on sipping on my drink and the fetus that was currently repositioning itself in my uterus. Ignoring the dull pain in my abdomen and the evergrowing headache, I tried to sit up straight so that my back was pressed against the sofa.

Alexandre was like his husband in the sense that he was generally free-spirited. He didn't care about what anyone had to say about him, and he only focused on things that made him happy. He was always smiling and was naturally kind-hearted. It was rare for him to be as serious as he was now, and I couldn't help but remember how Nick behaved when he drove me to the therapist.

He kissed his teeth and set the mug onto the table between us, "Nick said he took you to Doctor Vega. Did therapy help?" He asked in a thick French accent. He shook the braids out of his face and tried to tuck them behind his ears. His white shirt contrasted heavily against his dark skin, and as I stared at him and the way he carried himself, I couldn't help but understand why he was a successful model.

"Nick told you about therapy?"

Alexandre snorted, a faint smile painting itself onto his face, "Told me? Ma chére, c'était mon idée." [Darling, it was my idea.]

The corner of my lips tugged up, "I knew he wasn't adult enough to come up with that idea." I replied before taking a sip of the smoothie. Alexandre's smile fell off his face when he realized that I was trying to divert the topic as far away from me as possible. 

"Amber, dis-moi honnêtement, comment allez vous maintenant? Mentalement ou physiquement, je m'en fiche. Je veux juste savoir comment vous allez." He said with a solemn expression. [Amber, tell me honestly, how are you right at this moment? Mentally or physically, I don't care. I just want to know how you're doing.]

"You're surrounded by people who would do anything for you. They all love you." Doctor Vega's words echoed around my head. I knew that it would be easier to say that I was fine so we could drop the conversation, but therapy also taught me that I had a support system. They cared about me and I was doing fuck all to ease their worries.

I leaned over to place the almost empty smoothie cup on the coffee table, wincing as the pain intensified once again. Alexandre noticed the pained expression and furrowed his eyebrows in concern, but I just settled back into my seat.

"I'm in some pain," I replied honestly. Alexandre's concerned expression remained the same. "L'obstétricienne diagnosed me with pre-eclampsia, which is why Dylan was so adamant about not letting me go out."

"Je n'ai jamais entendu ça." [I've never heard of it.]

"It's when a woman has high blood pressure during her pregnancy. It's why I always have a headache, feel nauseous most of the time and have pain here," I touched my abdomen to show him the location, but hissed once the pain intensified once again. 

"C'est sérieux?" His eyes widened and he leaned forward, his mug nestled between his two palms. [Is it serious?]

I shrugged, "Le médicin m'a dit not to worry since I have three symptoms out of the many, but I'm under strict observation. Rose checks my vitals once a day to make sure it's not worsening." [The doctor told me...]

Alexandre thinned his lips and stared at his cup of coffee. His finger was circling around the rim of the cup, while he bounced his leg on the floor, "Je suppose que tu ne vas pas a la gala demain." [I take it you're not going to the gala tomorrow.]

Ever since papa died, Dylan continued to hold the annual galas, but he always made it a charity event for the foundation he'd started. It was always under papa's name, and he tried his best to help those that didn't have access to the treatments papa had.

I chuckled and shook my head, "Non, Dylan m'a interdit. He's scared it'll only make everything worse. It's fine though since I get to spend the day with his kids." [No, Dylan won't let me.]

Alexandre lifted his gaze from the mug to me. His eyes darted across my face until they settled onto mine, "Vous avez besoin d'un peu de repos, aussi," He told me with a smirk. [You need some rest, too.]

My jaw dropped in mock offense, "You're spending way too much time with Nick, Alex. Vous devenez aussi ennuyeux que lui." I said, a grin tugging at my lip. Ignoring the stabbing pain, I leaned forward to grab my smoothie so that I can finish it. [You're becoming as annoying as he is.]

Alexandre let himself fall back into the sofa, his back pressing against it. He smiled at the mention of Nick, "Il est mon mari; c'est un compliment." He replied through a breathy laugh as he twirled the chain around his neck. After Dylan's wedding, Nick had made it a point that he didn't want rings at his wedding, but Alexandre did. So they decided to have rings, but wear them around their necks like necklaces. Dylan was in charge of guarding them, and he didn't 'lose' them like Nick had. [He's my husband; I take it as a compliment.]

We sat in silence for a while. I was slurping on the remnants of my smoothie while Alexandre stared at the table lost in thought. As the baby moved around the womb again, I couldn't help but place a hand on my belly. It stopped for a bit before it started kicking. I wondered whether it was a male or female– I was supposed to find out a few weeks ago, but after finding out about my diagnosis, I hadn't been in the mood to stay in the hospital any longer. The ultrasound was rescheduled to the next week.

Alexandre glanced up and smiled softly, "Je suis pas stupide, Amber. Je sais que ce n'est pas la raison tu agis de façon bizarre," He started, looking me dead in the eye. I froze at the sudden proclamation, feeling exposed. Then, he shrugged one shoulder, "Mais c'est bon, parce que tu nous as." [I'm not stupid, Amber. I know that this isn't the reason you're acting weird. But it's okay because you've got us.]

I breathed out a sigh of relief and let the super comfortable sofa engulf me.

His smile turned into an excited one, "Voulez-vous faire plus du shopping?" [Do you want to do more shopping?]

I chuckled at his excitement to go shopping and wondered whether this is what I used to act like around Dylan. Nontheless, I didn't decline his request. Maybe I could start looking for some gender-neutral clothes for my baby– they had to have something cute.

•••

Before I could open the front door, I heard screaming from inside the house. It was high-pitched and filled with fear, and when I glanced at Alex, we instantly knew it was Nick.

I unlocked the door and pushed it open. As soon as I did, I was met with the sight of Nick running towards me, Dylan hot on his trail. Alexandre stepped aside when Nick went to hide behind him, and so he did the next best thing and grabbed me by the shoulders. Nick yanked me towards him and positioned himself behind me so I acted as a barrier between him and my brother.

Dylan's face was filled with pure annoyance and rage, but when he caught sight of me his expression softened. He skidded to a stop in front of me, "Hey, Bee. How was shopping with Alex? Are you feeling alright."

"I feel the same as usual," I replied because I did. The headaches, nausea, and abdominal pain were something I was so used to at this point. Nick's grip on my shoulders tightened making me glance back at him, "Why's he using me as a shield?"

Dylan's expression darkened again, "He almost killed Céline." He growled as he took a step to the side to try and hurt him. Nick just turned me again so that Dylan couldn't catch him.

Alexandre sighed like he expected this, patted his husband on the back, and walked past us carrying my shopping bags.

"He what?" I voiced out in disbelief as I tried to shake his hands off me.

"It wasn't my fault, Amby! You've got to believe me!" He cried out from behind me as he continued to maneuver me to block Dylan's attempts at grabbing him.

"When you've got three eyewitnesses saying that they saw you, it's clearly your fault," Dylan growled, frustrated that he couldn't get his hands on Nick to kill him. "Even your own brother agrees with me."

"Isaac is an idiot who's tired from working out," Nick commented from the back. "Plus you and Rose are biased against me. You've got motivation to lie. You're her parents, of course you'd blame me for almost killing her."

I did a double-take at Nick's rationale and glanced at Dylan with wide eyes, "Dylan am I dreaming? Because Nick here just made sense." I said, jutting a thumb at the moron hid behind me.

Nick's grip tightened on my shoulder, making me hiss and shake to get him off, "You guys treat me like I'm an idiot." He whined before regaining composure. "But see! Even Amby agrees with me–"

"Slow your roll there, bud," I cut him off as he turned me around again as my brother tried to reach over to kill Nick. "I never said that, don't make Dylan want to kill me too."

"He'd never hurt you," Nick snorted from behind me before he let out a yelp when Dylan almost grabbed his hair. "He'd ground you, though."

It was my turn to snort, "He can't ground me. I'm twenty-three."

"And I don't care," Dylan jumped into the conversation, narrowing his eyes at me. "I grounded you three years ago and I'll do it again."

"You're just stupid," I snapped back. "You grounded me because I made out with a boy at a party. I can't believe Rose told you." I grumbled the last part.

Dylan stuck his tongue out, "She told me because she loves me. Plus, maybe she thought you already told me, but that doesn't matter. Can you just step aside so I can strangle Nick?"

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, "It's not like the man has an iron-grip or anything." I remarked sarcastically while Nick whimpered at Dylan's threat. "How did he 'almost kill' Céline anyways?"

"The fuckwit threw her up like pizza dough and almost dropped her. She fell right through his outstretched arms. He caught her by her fucking ankle," Dylan said in a low, dangerous voice.

"She's alive and well!" Nick yelled as he cowered behind me. "She didn't die, did she?"

"But she could've!" Dylan retorted.

"But she didn't!" Nick snapped back.

"She could've."

"And she didn't."

"She could've–"

"Enough!" I screamed, effectively making both of them shut the fuck up. I grabbed Nick's wrist and yanked him forward so he stood in front of me. Dylan made a move to grab him but I made a noise to stop him. "How fucking old are you guys? You're acting like children, and this is coming from the girl who's twelve years younger than you. Thirteen when it comes to you, Nick."

Dylan opened his mouth to say something but I held a hand up, signaling for him to not. Nick snickered at the action, and I shot him a glare that sobered him up.

I pressed two fingers to my temple, "I'm tired, I have a headache and my feet are fucking sore. I came home to relax, but instead, I walk into two grown men arguing like a bunch of children! What the actual fuck is wrong with you guys?"

"He started it," Nick mumbled, making Dylan snap his head in his direction.

"Nick, I honestly don't give a shit," I replied with a glare directed at both of them. "It's both of your faults."

Dylan's head snapped to me, his expression a mixture of disbelief and bewilderment.

"Nick, you shouldn't fucking toss a baby up if you don't know how to fucking catch," I said, making him frown and lower his head in shame. Dylan smirked but I directed my glare towards him. His grin faltered at the look, "And you shouldn't have lost your shit so easily. The man fucked up, but guess what, he always does. That's literally Nick for you. Killing him won't do shit but make you go to prison. Do you want to go to prison?"

I raised my eyebrows expectantly and he shook his head, "No."

I nodded and gestured between the two of them, "I never want to see shit like this happen again, you hear me?"

"Yes," They answered simultaneously.

"Okay, now give each other a hug and say you're sorry." Both of them looked at me in disbelief, but when they saw my serious expression, they glanced at each other, crinkled their nose but outstretched their arms nonetheless. I heard them mumble their apologies and then accept them.

Suddenly, Nick's eyes widened, "Dyl, bud, you're hugging me too tight," He chocked out.

"Dylan!" I snapped. He jumped away from Nick and shot me a sheepish smile. I pinched the skin between my eyebrows and sighed, "How the fuck is Antoine more mature than you?"

"Speaking of Tony," Nick started an embarrassed look on his face. "I might've forgotten we were playing hide and seek. I have no idea where the kid is, and it's been like twenty minutes."

With a growl, Dylan pounced on Nick, who swiftly stepped to the side and bolted away from the both of us. Without bothering to spare me a second glance, Dylan ran after Nick, screaming a string of curse words at his retreating back.

I sighed and made my way towards the kitchen to down a Panadol. I really needed it.

•••

– 07/07/20

I'm officially officially done with high school.