Chapter 92: Chapter 92

KRISTEN

It would be somewhere far away.

I don't know where not just here. I would take June out of this pain because her suffering is directly mine.

Everything broke me: June's situation, her tears, Mark's sobs, my life...

"It will be okay," I said in a whisper to myself. "Everything is going to be fine."

I didn't believe it, but giving myself that reassurance made me feel better.

June was still unconscious. I felt relieved a bit because seeing her cry the other time almost made me break.

Mark had not left her side. He didn't stop sobbing.

"Mark," I called softly from the door. "It's okay, this wasn't your fault."

I know I yelled at him that he was supposed to keep her safe, but come to think of it, nobody is paying him to do that.

He looked up, his eyes red and swollen.

"It's okay." I walked to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. Seeing him so distraught, you can tell how much he loves her. "This wasn't your fault," I said lowly. "She will be fine."

"I wanted to go with her," he sobbed quietly. "If only I stubbornly persisted..." A sniff and hiccup made me miss some words. "If not for Edith, she would probably be dead... and... and—"

I pulled him into a hug. His voice ceased. It was meant to comfort him, but he took it as an opportunity to let out the remaining tears he was trying (and failing) to hide.

I began to pat his back, continuously murmuring that it wasn't his fault.

I would let out my tears in the privacy of my room when I'm done consoling others...

*. *. *. *.*

I didn't expect to see Edith outside the hospital room.

She had a sad look, one that tore right into my heart.

"Kristen..." She opened her arms and welcomed me into a warm hug. I didn't know I was so devastated until the tears started to fall.

What happened to crying in the privacy of my room when I was done consoling others?

"It's okay," she whispered and caressed my back. I didn't stop, and she didn't stop consoling me.

We stood in the hallway, hugging each other tightly as I let out the grief in my heart.

I had a faint knowledge of her wet gown and my hands tightly wrapped around her waist.

When I pulled back and wiped my eyes, she smiled in reassurance.

"It's okay... You're fine."

I nodded and wiped my eyes, "Yeah, I'm fine." With strong resolve, I continued murmuring "Yeah, I'm fine" until I could swear that it was gradually manifesting.

"What happened?" I sniffed. So this was how reassuring it must have felt for Mark when I hugged him. Sometimes, all we need is a hug and the reassurance that everything will be okay. "How did you see her?"

"I went to the ice cream shop you recommended..." Edith pulled my arm, leading me to a chair in the hallway, directly facing the closed door to the room June was admitted. "I was yet to get my order when I went into the restroom to ease myself. I didn't expect to see an unconscious lady on the floor, and neither did I expect that lady to be June. When I ran out and shouted for help, Mark was the first to rush to me... I didn't even know he was around the premises."

"He has been following her around since the scandal," I said. "To be sincere, he has been the one protecting her."

"Well, I guess he can't protect her in bathrooms."

"Exactly. He blames it on himself."

"He needs to know that it's not his fault." Edith grabbed my hand and moved closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What about the baby? I hope the baby is okay?"

The question brought back a fresh round of tears, but I didn't let it fall.

Who could have done this to June?

"She lost the baby."

Edith gasped.

I didn't look at her but I knew she was fighting the urge to cry.

"Oh my God, Kristen..."

I just hope she is not about to cry, because I don't have the emotional strength to console anyone right now.

I don't know what this is, but I want it to stop.

My heart felt heavy; I was only trying to be a man for June, for myself, for Mark, for everyone...

I've heard people say that describing their feelings is sometimes difficult, but I've never experienced it.

It's like closing your eyes and feeling pain, and opening them and still feeling pain.

The pain came with a feeling of emptiness.

And the emptiness came with the numb feeling of just crying the issues to sleep.

"I don't know what to say."

I forced out a smile. At least, someone who could relate. Since my afternoon of pain began, I've been lost for words. English seemed to no longer be a language I could understand and form sentences from.

"It's okay." A little part of my brain kept reminding me that it could be a dream, and I could wake up to see June smiling into my eyes, her beautiful face reflecting the glow of the sun.

And I sincerely hope that it will be a dream. I don't want to put June in so much pain. I don't want to see her hurt the way she is doing. I've seen her cry so much. I've consoled her too. I watched her heal. Seeing her break is not something my heart would be able to take.

"I need to take a breather," I got up and walked to the exit, staggering like a man who had taken too much wine. A message entered my phone, making me pause.

It read: YOU BITCH ARSE NIGGA, BETTER DON'T GO BACK TO THAT HOUSE!

I was still frowning at the screen when another one came in:

I WILL SPLATTER YOUR BLOOD ACROSS THE SIDEWALK!!

I walked out of the hospital, confused and a bit worried.

Something caught my attention. It was my car...

There was a bold inscription on the bonnet written in blood:

FUCKING SICKO! IT WILL BE YOUR TURN TO BLEED!