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"This afternoon at the Fourways Market, a drunk taxi driver shot and injured nearly fifteen people. Sources say that he found out that his girlfriend was cheating on him with someone she claimed was her cousin."

Mzamo looked at the TV screen. The bar that he worked at was still empty. He was preparing for the night shift as he wiped the counters clean.

"He went to confront her, but in anger, he took out the firearm and started shooting at the civilians. Two people died on the spot, five are in critical condition and eight are injured."

"People like him are the reason foreigners don't want to come to South Africa." Cory, Mzamo's co-worker said.

Mzamo nodded in agreement. "He should have just broken up with her and," his phone started ringing, "found a new girlfriend." The number was unfamiliar. He answered. "Hello?"

"Mzamo, you have to come," the voice on the other end sounded panicked.

"I'm sorry, who's this?"

"I'm Sonke, August's friend."

"What can I help you with?" Mzamo continued wiping the counters, knowing that if his boss came in and found out that he was talking on the phone instead of working, he'd be in trouble.

"There was a shooting. Kholwa's hurt," and then everything else stopped being audible. He left the cloth on the table and went to take his belongings.

"Hey, where are you going?" His co-worker shouted at him, but he couldn't be bothered.

"Which hospital is she in?"

~*~

Mzamo blindly ran through the hospital halls searching for Kholwa. He asked the nurses for emergency patients from the Fourways shooting. When he saw distressed August, he ignored him, choosing to ask his more alert friends.

"Where is she?" He asked.

"She just came out of surgery." One of them said. "She's in the ICU but we're not allowed to see her."

Mzamo thanked them and then went in search of the ICU. He was her guardian. After making the nurse aware, he was allowed in, telling him that he couldn't take long because she needed to rest.

It wasn't the first time that he had to go looking for Kholwa in the hospital. The first time, he bared bad news. Memories of that time flashed as he slowly walked up to the bed that she was in. Last time she looked much worse with bruises all over her small body. Her leg had been broken, and it had been elevated. She had a lot more machines connected to her before. At that moment, she looked better. Other than the machine connected to her mouth, she did not look hurt. She looked like she was sleeping.

"Khokho," he choked out as he fell onto his knees at the edge of the bed. He held onto her hand, wishing that she would reciprocate. He cried, not caring who would see or hear him. It was not the time for such. "I should have been with you. I should have been the one to take the bullet." Because she already had enough on her plate.

She was already fighting her own losing battle, why did this have to happen too?

~*~

Days passed. Mzamo visited her every day, although he still went to work. He had to work so that when she woke up, everything would still be normal. She will be confused and in too much shock if she came back and he didn't have a job.

He didn't even look at the designer last time. He did not even want an explanation. He didn't blame him. He couldn't. He blamed the stupid guy who decided to go around shooting people because he was angry at his girlfriend. That guy, he deserved to go to a place worse than hell.

She Who Stole His HeartWhere stories live. Discover now