Atticus approached Aurora, who was wailing on the floor. He bent down to her level and gently raised her chin, gazing directly into her red, puffy eyes.
Her face was soaked with tears, mucus coming out of her nose, and her eyes were swollen. Atticus gave her his warmest smile, a smile filled with reassurance, but it only seemed to make Aurora cry even harder.
Her sobs racked her fragile frame as she clung to him, her tiny hands gripping his clothes, soaking them with her tears.
Atticus didn’t utter a word; instead, he offered silent solace through his embrace. He held her close, patting her head in a tender and reassuring manner.
In that secluded alleyway, the only sounds that resonated were the heart-wrenching sobs of a young girl, a testament to the hell Aurora had endured for far too long.
After a few minutes of unrestrained tears, exhaustion overcame her. Aurora’s cries slowly subsided, replaced by soft, quivering breaths as she drifted into a restless slumber within Atticus’s hand.
Atticus sighed, ‘What am i doing?’ he wondered. His decision to intervene in Aurora’s matter had taken him by surprise, challenging his self-image of indifference.
Carefully, he lifted her fragile form in a gentle princess carry, cradling her against his chest. He carried her to his room and gently placed her on his bed and covered her with a blanket.
Aurora stirred slightly, her body instinctively seeking warmth and comfort. Atticus watched her for a moment and with a conflicted heart, he shook his head and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.
He went to sit down on the couch in the parlor, his eyes cold and distant.
Why had Atticus done it?
Even he didn’t have a clear answer.
For as long as he could remember, Atticus had always considered himself indifferent towards others, or so he had believed. He had always held his family in high regard, cherishing those close to him above all else.
He didn’t view himself as a villain or an anti-social loner; rather, he saw himself as someone who wouldn’t go out of his way to help those he didn’t deem important.
Throughout his life on Earth, this principle had guided him—an unwavering belief in an eye for an eye. He treated people in kind, offering goodness to those who extended it and retaliating against those who inflicted harm.
Even when faced with the suffering of others, it had done little to stir his emotions. Atticus had always prided himself on his indifference towards anyone outside of his family circle.
In his past life, his mother had showered him with love and attention, and even in this life, he continued to receive affection and care from his loved ones.
However, witnessing the torment inflicted upon someone who should have been cherished by her own father ignited an unfamiliar feeling within him. It was a sensation that he couldn’t quite define.
What solidified this change in him was the realization that the girl in question, Aurora, was just a child. She was 10 years old!
Atticus couldn’t help but draw parallels between her circumstances and the lives of ten year olds back on Earth.
Despite the accelerated maturation of children in Eldoralth, he found it difficult to accept the harsh reality that Aurora was facing.
Witnessing a child endure such torment was deeply unsettling, something only the coldest of hearts could ignore.
And it appeared that Atticus’s heart wasn’t as cold as he had thought.
Initially, he had been determined to ignore the troubling situation that had unfolded before him. He had wanted to erase the haunting image of Aurora that night from his mind, hoping that by turning a blind eye, he could free himself from the nagging thoughts that plagued his consciousness.
However, no matter how hard he tried to bury the matter, it continued to gnaw at his very being, refusing to be ignored.
Eventually, he decided to take action.
Atticus knew that he wasn’t close enough to Aurora to convince her to defy her father’s orders.
The fear she held for Rowan ran deep within her, making her obedient despite the inner turmoil she surely felt. So, he devised a different strategy—one that required a delicate touch of manipulation.
The plan was straightforward. He had observed that Aurora lacked warmth and in her life. She had no friends at the camp, her mother was deceased, and her father treated her coldly.
Atticus realized that the key to helping her lay in making her yearn for that warmth.
During the nights he consistently showed up, Atticus noticed how Aurora slowly started to get used to his presence and even appreciate it.
He had witnessed the subtle shift in her demeanor, the way she began to anticipate their brief interactions, finding solace and a glimmer of happiness in those fleeting moments.
So, he abruptly stopped appearing for a while, observing from a distance as she searched for him at their usual meeting spot.
He had seen the sadness that clouded her eyes when he wasn’t there, the reluctance with which she eventually retreated to her room when he failed to show.
Atticus watched this pattern unfold for several days, realizing that Aurora was reaching her breaking point. It was then that he decided to reappear, pushing her emotions to the breaking point.
Now, Atticus sat on the couch, his back against it, and reflected on his actions.
He muttered softly to himself, “I guess I’m not so indifferent after all, huh?” It was a reluctant admission, but he had come to terms with the fact that he did care.
He let out a deep sigh, “Now how should i handle this,” he muttered, wondering about the best way to handle the situation.
***
Hi 👋 . I truly hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did, while giving golden tickets might not be possible, I would truly appreciate powerstones or comments. They’ll motivate me and also help this story reach more readers. Thank you for reading.
