Chapter 8 Blindfolded
1110 Words
Amber's POV:
I picked up a black cloth, carefully tying it around Sidney's eyes and securing it with a neat bow at the back of his head.
The moment I did, his body stiffened. Instinctively, his hands moved to yank the blindfold off. But I saw it coming and quickly grabbed his hands, stopping him.
"Don't move. Trust me." I leaned in, my voice close to his ear.
He hesitated and then reluctantly let go.
"I haven't really had a chance to explore this place since I got here. Mr. Sidney, mind giving me a little tour today?" Before he could respond, I straightened up and began pushing his wheelchair.
*****
The soft hum of the wheels on the floor filled the quiet space as we moved forward, slowly.
"Mr. Sidney, your home is truly something," I said, pretending to be impressed, but my eyes never left him, watching for his reaction.
Sidney stiffened, sensing something was wrong. "Amber... stop!" he demanded, his voice tense.
I ignored him and kept pushing.
"The giant painting in the hallway—is it an original? I think I've seen something like it in a museum before."
The wheelchair sped up, moving past the familiar confines of the room.
"Amber!" Sidney's voice strained as he gripped the armrests hard, his body curling in on itself. His face turned crimson, and he started gagging, a mix of panic and fear bubbling up inside him.
He pounded his fists against the wheelchair. "Take me back! Amber, don't make me do this!"
He was unraveling, teetering on the edge of losing control.
Bending down, I whispered, "Mr. Sidney, we're still in your room."
"No way!" Sidney shot back, disbelief etched in every word.
"You can check for yourself."
He ripped off the blindfold, his expression frozen in shock. "How... how is this possible?"
We hadn't left Sidney's bedroom. His wheelchair was still right next to his bed. Smiling, I gently placed the blindfold back over his eyes. "Let's try again. Focus this time."
I wheeled him toward the door.
Now came the real test.
I glanced nervously at the doorway, my heart beating faster than I'd like to admit. I wasn't entirely sure this would work, and the sweat forming in my palms gave away my nerves. But I knew one thing—if I didn't push forward, we'd never know the answer.
I had to fake it just like I did the first time. The best outcome was to make Sidney believe he was still in his room. Worst case, he wouldn't know where he was at all.
I rolled him through the door, my pulse racing.
Sidney listened intently, clearly trying to figure out where we were.
I jumped in to distract him, speaking casually, "You know, the first time I came here, I thought this place was as grand as a palace. I figured people living here didn't have a care in the world."
Sidney let out a bitter chuckle. "And now?"
"Now, I think everyone has their struggles."
He didn't respond right away. His head turned slightly as if he was still trying to sense something, his body on alert.
I pressed on, "So, what's your favorite part of the villa?"
"I don't like any of it."
"Really? I love the garden. Every time I pass by, I just want to lie down in it. Do you remember what it looks like?"
Sidney paused, trying to recall something. "I never paid much attention. Maybe there are tulips—Sereina likes them."
"Well, that's probably because it's been so long since you've been outside."
"That's not it. This isn't my home, Amber. My father sent me here after I couldn't walk anymore." Sidney's voice softened, a trace of something deep beneath the surface. "Everything here feels foreign to me—probably even more than it does to you."
A pang of sadness hit me. It was like he was peeling back layers, revealing a sliver of the loneliness he must've felt, abandoned in this place after his injury. Left to recover, but also left alone.
I swallowed the tightness in my throat and softened my voice. "Well, now you'll get your answer."
I stopped pushing the wheelchair and turned him toward the window. Slowly, I removed the blindfold.
Sidney blinked, taking in the view—the garden outside was bursting with red roses, their blooms bright and full under the sunlight.
"It's beautiful," he whispered, awe in his voice. But then, something clicked, and he turned to look at me in shock.
We had made it several feet outside the room, and he hadn't realized it.
But the moment was short-lived. Sidney's body reacted quickly—he began gagging again. I hurriedly covered his eyes and wheeled him back into the room.
*****
"We're back now, Sidney." I untied the cloth and gently rubbed his back, trying to calm him.
Sidney wasn't some frail patient. He was tall, with broad, strong shoulders that filled out his shirt. His presence was... distracting. 'Seriously? Now's not the time to be thinking about that!' I felt heat rise to my cheeks.
The familiar surroundings worked quickly to soothe him. I poured him a glass of water, but he waved it away, his eyes fixed on me as if trying to confirm something.
It was obvious—he knew the problem wasn't physical. It was all in his head.
"My guess? You've been resisting the idea of going outside for so long that you've convinced yourself you can't do it. You've built up this mental barrier to justify staying in," I said gently.
Sidney stared at the door, processing my words. Then, in a sudden burst of determination, he wheeled himself toward it.
I caught him just in time, pulling him back.
He looked at me, his face flushed, coughing. His eyes were filled with confusion. "Tell me... was what just happened a fluke?"
As much as I wanted to push further, I knew we couldn't rush this. Sidney was in no state to try again today.
I reassured him quickly, "It wasn't a fluke. That was you. You made that happen. But we're done for today. Tomorrow, we'll try again—and you'll see even more progress."
Sidney glanced at the door one last time, clearly frustrated, but finally nodded.
Even though his attempt to leave on his own had failed, I could see his mood had shifted. That small success had given him a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things could change.
As I started to take the tray back to the kitchen, Sidney called out to me.
"Want to watch a movie?" he asked.
- Writer
