Chapter 85: need to die

Chapter 85: Chapter 85: need to die

Her mind felt like it was on fire.

The voice was relentless and kept pressing harder on her

End the pain. End the suffering. End the blame. Only you can end it.

"Get out of my head," Amelia choked, though no sound left her real body. "Get out—get out—"

Her eyes refused to close. She was forced to keep watching every death, every accusation, every wet, tearing moment looping without mercy.

*

In the medical room, Enzo laid Amelia onto the examination table. White foam had already begun to gather at the corners of her mouth. Her body jerked in violent, irregular spasms.

"Claire!" He shouted. "get her here, now!"

Dr. Claire appeared within seconds. The moment she saw Amelia, her expression shifted from irritation to sharp focus.

"Step back. All of you."

The brothers moved only far enough to give her space. Claire’s hands were already moving, rapid sequences of enchantment forming in the air around Amelia’s thrashing form. Light flickered and died against the black residue still clinging faintly to her skin.

The brother’s chest felt so tight. The thought that Amelia’s life was slipping—actually slipping—sat in them, eating them up inside.

"Stop whatever this is," Enzo demanded.

Claire didn’t look up.

"I can’t stop what I haven’t identified."

She continued the enchantments, then pressed two fingers to Amelia’s pulse. Her face tightened.

"We’re losing her. I need a tub filled with water. Immediately."

Reid’s voice came out sharp. "For what?"

"To put her under and force her to wake up."

"Are you insane?"

Claire’s eyes flashed. "I have an idea of what’s happening to her."

"An idea isn’t enough." Dean retorted.

Amelia’s convulsions worsened, her back arching hard off the table.

Claire’s patience snapped. "If any of you know better, handle it yourselves. Otherwise stop questioning how I do my work."

Enzo didn’t waste another second. He turned to the waiting staff.

"Prepare everything she asked for. Now."

They moved at once.

Minutes later a deep tub stood ready, water still and cold. Enzo lifted Amelia again. For a brief moment he hesitated—looking down at her face, at the foam, at the way her body continued to seize—before committing.

He lowered her into the water.

Claire was already moving again, hands forming rapid movements above the surface as she leaned in close.

"Wake up," she snapped. "Snap out of it already, Amelia."

Amelia didn’t respond. Her body remained rigid and unresponsive beneath the water, only the faint, irregular spasms proving she was still fighting something inside.

Claire’s expression tightened. She looked up at the brothers. "Come here. All of you."

They stepped forward at once.

"Call her name. Tell her to wake up. Talk to her—anything. Anything that can make her wake up."

None of them demanded an explanation. Pride had no place in the moment. The only thought that mattered was that they could not lose her.

"Amelia."

"Wake up."

"Come back."

Their voices overlapped, not caring about what others think. Time felt so thin.

Inside the nightmare, Amelia felt as if she had been trapped in the same loop for years. Her mind had begun to surrender under the weight of it. The voice’s logic almost sounded merciful now.

Put an end to your suffering amelia, this is your chance.

Her hands rose toward her own throat.

Then—through the screaming and the blood and the endless accusations—something else reached her.

"Amelia!"

It wasn’t shouted in hatred or thrown like a curse. Spoken with something closer to desperate yearning.

Another voice followed. Then a third.

"Amelia, wake up!"

She recognized them. The brothers.

But that made no sense. She could still see them dying in front of her. How could she be hearing them at the same time?

"You said you didn’t want to die. You chose this—chose us—instead of ending it. Honor that. Keep proving to us just how much of a jerk we are!"

Amelia’s hands stilled.

She looked around the nightmare landscape, searching, and finally saw where the voice was coming from: a narrow point of light in the distance.

Her legs felt like lead when she tried to move. Every step was a battle against the voice still screaming that she should stop, that she should finish it, that she had no worth.

But she kept going. She remembered the choice she had already made—the moment she had accepted the contract rather than death. That version of herself had refused to give up. She could not betray that now.

She reached for the light.

Her fingers brushed it—

—and everything went black.

Amelia’s eyes flew open.

Water flooded her nose and mouth at once. She choked hard, body thrashing as panic and oxygen collided. Strong hands hauled her upward immediately.

Claire’s voice cut through the chaos, tight with relief.

"She’s awake. Get her out."

They pulled her clear of the tub in one motion. Amelia collapsed forward the moment her knees hit solid ground, coughing violently as water forced its way back up.

One hand clutched at her chest while the other braced against the floor. The raw and endless coughing went on and on—until her throat burned and her vision swam.

She didn’t notice Dean’s hand steady against her back, firm and rhythmic as he tried to help her clear her lungs. She didn’t notice Reid hovering close on one side, or Enzo on the other, both of them shifting uselessly as if searching for some physical way to ease what was happening to her.

Only when the worst of the coughing finally broke did the room come into focus.

Cold tile. The medical bay. The three of them crowded around her. Claire kneeling nearby.

How did I get here?

Her body felt hollowed out—weak, heavy, drained down to the bone.

Enzo’s voice came low, but still felt strained.

"Are you all right?"

Amelia managed another weak cough. "I’m... fine now."

Claire moved in at once, checking her pulse, her breathing, the residual tension still locked in her limbs. When she spoke, her tone was blunt.

"You were this close to ending your own life, weren’t you?"

Amelia’s head lifted slightly. "How did you know that?"

"I believe you were under a memory curse." Claire sat back on her heels. "You’re lucky they found you when they did. If not—"

"That wasn’t a memory," Amelia cut in roughly. "It felt... real."

"That’s exactly what the curse is designed to make you believe."

Enzo’s gaze sharpened.

"How was it placed on her? There have been no strangers in the house. No unusual events."

Claire shook her head once.

"I don’t know yet. But the place to start is her room—where this began. That’s where we’ll find the first clue."