Chiara's mistake was talking to him for the first time, Jasper's mistake was confessing the truth to her.
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Chiara led a monotonous and uneventful life until she met the enigmatic Jasper...
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So here I am, back to when I started remembering this whole ordeal. In some way, the last days have also flashed through my eyes, because I too feel like I'm going to die any second now.
I feel like I have failed her. I've been going over in my mind the moments leading up to this exact moment, trying to identify what I could have done differently. The idea that I didn't do enough to protect her keeps pounding my chest.
I keep asking the police officers if they have seen her, but unfortunately, no one seems to know anything. It's a helpless feeling, overwhelming, all-consuming.
The chaos around me is suffocating. The street is closed off, barricaded by police officers who are shouting orders and trying to maintain some semblance of control in the midst of the pandemonium. My eyes are drawn again and again to the blue bus parked in the middle of the road. Its doors are flung wide open, and the interior is in complete chaos. I can see the paramedics inside, working frantically to take out the injured passengers and aiding those in need.
I try to push my way through the crowd, looking for any sign of Chiara. My heart is racing in my chest, my mind is racing with possibilities, and my breathing is becoming erratic. With every step, I wonder if I'm getting closer or if I'm just wasting my time.
I think back to when I originally planned to go inside the bus. Maybe if I had done that, I would have found her already.
But then again, what if that wasn't the way things were meant to happen?
But what if I was a second too late?
I see a couple of people being carried out on stretchers, most of them I assume passed out and not really injured. But I remember very well the words she told me, the pain in her side, the memories she had explained so vividly. It truly makes me think the worst out of the situation.
The sound of sirens is deafening, and I can feel myself starting to panic.
And then, I see her.
Her hair is a stunning shade of red that seems to glow in the middle of this turmoil. It is as if she is a beacon of hope. She is being carried out, her unconscious form limp in the stretcher.
Without a second thought, I start running towards her, my heart pounding against my chest. As I trample over people and stumble over my own feet, I can't help but feel all the desperation shoot through my body at once.
I need to reach her, to make sure she's okay.
Every breath I take comes in short gasps, as if my body is trying to keep up with my racing heart.
As I struggle to break free from the hands that are trying to hold me back, I can hear the screams of policemen and paramedics who are threatening to use force if I don't stop.
Despite the chaos around me, I remain focused on one thing: screaming her name over and over again. My heart is racing as I wait and hope that she is still inside the ambulance, that she will remember me, and that my voice calling out her name will be enough to wake her up.
