If there was one thing in his life that Emir actually prayed for, like get down on his knees with hands folded and pray to whatever was in the sky above him, it would be this. For this moment to never happen. That he wouldnât be staring at the TV, phone in his hand as it shook, Thomas standing behind him trying to talk to him over the roar of the reports filing in on the news station.
âSir?â Thomas had been there his whole life, practically raised him like most butlers tended to do in rich British families. There had been moments the elderly man was his best friend and Emir was aware how Batmany this all felt, even made jokes about it, but in the end it was true. The man had saved his life just over a year ago when Emir felt like he couldnât go on anymore...yet when he spoke the word, concern in his voice Emir simply stared at the TV, his eyes wide with fear. No, not like this. He couldnât find out like this...
Still not speaking a word he rushed to the bathroom and bent down to his knees just in time for the wine he had for dinner to come up landing in the toilet. It was a familiar position for him, hunched over the porcelain throne throwing up whatever booze and drugs were in his system from partying. Yet this was not from being too intoxicated or high, this was from pure fear. In the background he could hear the news anchorâs voice droning on as another wave hit him.
âWe are just now getting reports on Prince Joseph Windsor, The Duke of York, being hospitalized last year after an apparent suicide attempt. Our source says he was found with cuts over his arms and an alarming amount of narcotics in his sys--â
Lifting his head, Emir, looked at the man standing behind him with a towel already in one hand and a glass of water in the other. The prince had tears in his eyes as he brokenly asked, âhow did they find out?â They had gone through so much to hide it, to keep that part of his past locked up from the public. His grandmother would not be happy that he was ruining the royal name with something he had done during a moment of weakness of a broken heart.
âI am not sure, sir. Your father said something--â Another whimper left Emir as he rested his head against the toilet not yet throwing up but feeling awful close from the older manâs words.
âMy father knows?â It wasnât like that the Duke didnât know about his sonâs past, in fact he had been the one to create âEmirâ. It was the name they picked for the hospital instead of using his real one to keep things under wrap. Apparently not good enough, Emir thought to himself as he heard the lady drone on some more. âThis canât be happening...â
âYes, sir. In fact he already called a car to come pick you up--â Emir let out a shaky sigh as he felt another wave threatened to hit him as it not only sunk it what was happening but what was going to happen next. A black car would come outside his apartment, his security would come up to his penthouse open the door and usher him down to the car like the few times they had had to do this before. Their next steps would be taking him to a safe house - one of the five they family had - where he would be âgroundedâ until his family said he was allowed to be in public again. If they ever let him out in public again. His grandmotherâs wrath had no fury as far as he was convinced.
His green eyes glanced down at the scars on his wrist still jagged while slowly fading as his mind also focused on what this meant. John. John was probably going to realize who he was now. Would see how he lied to him who he really was, how much of a fuck up he really was.
Another wave of sickness came up.
âSir?â Emir just held up a finger shaking his head. He couldnât speak right now, not when his world was crashing around him. Not when he was realizing that his relationship, the one perfect thing in his life, was over. âSir we need to get you ready--â
Lifting his head he shot a glare at him, though he knew it wasnât Thomasâ fault. No, this was all Emirâs fault. Josephâs fault. âGive me a second,â his voice was gravely now from the stomach acid that had coated his throat. His hands were gripping the toilet now with a grip that turned his fingers white, it was all he could do to keep his hands from shaking in fear. His world was falling apart...he was ruined...god he was such a fuck up.
As he sat there frozen in fear, he didnât realize Thomas had left the bathroom to go start packing for him. He was no in shape to get his emergency pack ready and they both knew it. There had been about five times in his life he had to pack up and go to a safe house, usually from a threat to the family always turning into a false alarm, but this was all because a man over a year ago broke his heart and Emir thought there was only one way to fix the pain. By taking a bunch of antidepressants and slicing his wrist several times.
He was only here because his sister found him bleeding out in the bathtub heart barely beating.
To this day he could still see the image of him lying there in his sisterâs eyes whenever she looked at him. Emir tried to thank her for saving his life but everytime he tried to open his mouth she would shake her head somberly a silent indicator that she wasnât ready to talk about what happened to him. What he put her through. Part of him was happy that she wasnât ready though. Before John came into his life he wasnât even sure if he was happy that she saved him...there had still be a part of him wishing that she had come by a few minutes later.
When he finally got the strength he stood up on his shaky legs, reaching for the phone he had placed on the sink. It was time to get responsible, take action for what he failed to do over a year ago. Fingers dancing over the keyboard he tried to write the message about five times before he settled on two simple words.
Iâm sorry.
With a sigh he turned his phone off and placed it in his pocket walking back to the bedroom right when Thomas had finished packing his bag. âReady, sir?â With a nod, he followed him the phone weighing heavy in his pocket. Â
It was time to disappear.
