Creating A Succubus Army In A Fantasy World!
Chapter 52: I’m Sorry, Em!

Chapter 52: I’m Sorry, Em!

Creed sat in his room, headphones snug over his ears, fingers flying over his controller as the glow of his monitor bathed his face in cool blue light.

His mind was laser-focused on the game, his teammates shouting commands in his ears.

"Push left! Flank them, Creed!"

"Bro, don’t die now! We’re winning this!"

His heartbeat pounded with excitement. He was on fire tonight. Every shot was precise, every move clean.

If he won this round, his rank would shoot up, and he’d finally—

Knock Knock Knock Knock Knock

Not now!

"Creed?" A small voice. Hesitant. He barely registered it.

Another knock. Creed gritted his teeth. "What?"

Silence. Then: "Can we talk?"

His eyes stayed glued to the screen. His fingers didn’t stop moving. There was a slight frown on his face as he replied to his younger sister, Emily.

"Later, Em. I’m busy."

She was always asking for his time. Always knocking on his door with that same soft voice, that same hopeful tone, like she still believed he would drop everything for her.

But he never did.

It wasn’t like he was a bad brother, right? He just had his own life. He had his own problems!

He had schoolwork piling up. He had friends who actually cared about the same things he did. He had games that helped him forget the stress of everything!

And most of all was that he didn’t even know how to deal with her.

She had changed over the years. The Emily he remembered had been loud, goofy, full of energy.

Now she was... quieter. Always tired-looking. Always staring at her phone with this blank, faraway look.

Creed figured it was just teenage stuff. It was just a phase. He had his own things to worry about.

So when she knocked on his door, when she asked for time, when she needed him, he pushed her away.

Not now.

Not now.

Not now.

Dinglingling!

The game ended. He won. His rank shot up. A rush of satisfaction filled his chest as he leaned back and stretched.

He pulled off his headphones, turned around, and noticed her standing in the doorway. She hadn’t left. She had been waiting.

Creed frowned. "Em, I said later."

She didn’t move. Her fingers twisted in the sleeves of her oversized hoodie. Her lips pressed together, like she was trying to say something but couldn’t.

Then, in a voice so small and fragile it made something uncomfortable twist in his gut, she asked:

"Do you even care about me anymore?"

The question caught him off guard.

"What?" he said, half-laughing. "Of course I do. What kind of dumb question is that?"

She looked down. "You don’t act like it."

Creed’s irritation flared. "Emily, I’m literally right here. I live in the same house as you. What more do you want?!"

She bit her lip. "...I just want my brother."

Creed sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. He wasn’t in the mood for this. Not tonight. He wanted to relax for tonight, at least.

"I’m right here, Em," he muttered. "I never went anywhere."

Another long silence. Then, finally, she whispered: "Yeah... okay."

And she walked away. For some reason, he didn’t feel relieved when she left.

Creed spent the next few hours doing nothing important.

He scrolled through his phone. He watched random videos. He texted his friends about the game. He called his girlfriends.

He could have gone to Emily’s room. Could have knocked on her door and asked her what was wrong. Could have sat down and actually listened.

Heck, a simple phone call to check up on her would have been better than nothing.

But he didn’t. Because he figured she’d be fine. She was just being dramatic, right? She always bounced back.

She’d be fine.

She’d be fine.

She’d—

Suddenly, his phone buzzed. Creed barely glanced at the screen before answering. "Yo, what’s up?"

But the voice on the other end wasn’t one of his friends. It was his mother. And she was screaming!

"CREED—IT’S EMILY—SHE—SHE’S IN THE HOSPITAL—"

The world stopped. His breath caught in his throat. His stomach twisted into a cold, sick knot.

"...What?"

He must have misheard. He must have. Because if he didn’t... If he didn’t...

Then everything was about to change forever and he wasn’t ready for that!

The phone nearly slipped from Creed’s fingers. He heard his mother’s voice, but the words didn’t make sense.

Emily. Hospital. Unconscious. Emergency!

His mind refused to process it. His body refused to move. He just sat there, his breath shallow, uneven, heart hammering against his ribs like it was trying to escape.

No. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real!

Emily was fine. She was always fine. Just a few hours ago, she was standing in his doorway, looking at him with those sad, tired eyes.

And now she was in the hospital?

No. No. NO!

The next thing he knew, he was running.

The car ride was a blur. His mother was crying too hard to drive, so his father took the wheel, speeding through the streets like a madman.

Creed sat in the back, staring at nothing. His thoughts were tangled, messy, panicked.

What happened? What exactly happened? By now, he had figured out that she must have left the house after speaking with him, but then what did she do?

Did she...?

His stomach twisted violently. ’No. No. NO!’

She was fine. She had to be fine. He never got to tell her—

"Please," his mother sobbed, hands clutching at her face. "Please, let her be okay. Please."

His father’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel. Creed couldn’t breathe.

His fingers dug into his jeans, nails pressing into his skin. Why did it feel like the walls were closing in?

The drive felt like an eternity. Every second stretched out, slow and agonizing.

And then, they reached the hospital.

The moment they stepped inside, a doctor approached them. Her expression was grim, eyes filled with the kind of pity that made Creed want to throw up.

His mother grabbed her arm. "Where’s my daughter? Is she okay? Please—"

The doctor sighed. "She’s stable for now, but... It was close."

Stable. Creed’s knees almost gave out with relief. She was alive. But what did they mean by ’close’?

That word sent a fresh wave of nausea crashing over him.

"Can we see her?" his father asked, voice tight and controlled.

The doctor hesitated, then nodded. "She’s still unconscious, but... Yes. Follow me."

They walked through sterile white hallways, the smell of antiseptic thick in the air. Creed’s heart pounded louder with every step.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. But nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for the sight of her.

Emily lay in the hospital bed, tubes running from her arms, an oxygen mask covering her face.

She looked so small. So fragile. Creed froze in the doorway, his chest tightening.

His mother collapsed into the chair beside the bed, sobbing. His father stood stiffly, eyes glassy, mouth pressed into a thin line.

But Creed just stood there.

Staring.

Because the only thing running through his mind, over and over again, was one simple, horrifying thought:

This is my fault!

His fingers curled into fists. If he had just listened to her that night. If he had just asked her what was wrong. If he had just been a good brother.

Would she be lying here now? Would she have—

The doctor cleared her throat. "It was an overdose."

Silence. The words hit Creed like a punch to the gut.

"What?" his father asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor sighed. "We found high doses of painkillers in her system. If she hadn’t been found in time..."

She trailed off. She didn’t need to finish the sentence. The weight of it settled in the room, heavy and suffocating.

His mother let out a broken wail. His father turned away, fists clenched. Creed felt like he was suffocating.

Painkillers.

How had he not noticed?

The hoodie she always wore. The way she always seemed exhausted. The way she never ate much anymore.

It had been right in front of him. And he had been too busy playing around to see it!

The days that followed were a haze. Emily woke up, but she wouldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t talk to him. Wouldn’t acknowledge him.

And that hurt more than anything.

He tried. God, he tried. But what could he even say?

Sorry for ignoring you? Sorry for being a selfish piece of shit? Sorry for realizing too late that you were drowning?

What could possibly make up for the fact that he wasn’t there when she needed him the most?

The answer was simple. Nothing!

She was gone a week later.

This time, there was no hospital. No second chance. Just a note. A few scribbled words that tore him apart.

Emily died. She died due to depression.

Creed never recovered after that. Not really. He smiled. He laughed. He went out with friends. He made dumb jokes.

But none of it was real. Nothing filled the emptiness. Nothing drowned out the regret.

Except one thing. Distraction.

Girls. Alcohol. Parties. More girls. Danger. Anything to keep his mind from slipping back to that night.

Because every time he closed his eyes, every time he was alone, he heard her voice.

"Do you even care about me anymore?"

And no matter how hard he tried, he could never answer.

.....

Creed’s breath hitched as he gasped, his body jerking upright. His heart pounded in his chest, sweat clinging to his skin.

His hands shook. He wasn’t in the hospital. He wasn’t on Earth. He was in the secret realm.

And yet, he still felt that same crushing guilt. His fingers dug into the dirt beneath him.

How many times had he buried it? How many times had he shoved it down and pretended it didn’t haunt him?

Too many. But this time... This time, he couldn’t run from it anymore.

He wouldn’t.

Taking a deep breath, Creed slowly opened his eyes. And faced the truth.

He would answer her now.

Did he care about her?

Of course he did!

But did he ’care’ for her?

The words he had been meaning to say since forever finally left Creed’s lips.

"I’m Sorry, Em!"

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