𝐂𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋

✁ CHAPTER 15

His face loses all its colors and turns pale.

My heart on the other hand keeps racing inside my rib cage.

"Did you actually fight with someone that day or was it something else?"

I say looking at him, dipped in curiosity.

He does not know how much does this mean to me.

"You should go back to your room, Doc"

He gets up turning his back on me.

I looked at my cupped hands that were scratching each other constantly, perhaps in anxiety.

I felt like laughing at myself.

Am I even a proper psychologist? I myself am suffering from this shitty nightmare every day that is eating me from the inside and here I am trying to act as if I excel in my field.

How can I make him trust me when even I have lost my faith in myself?

"You need to tell me"

I say in a low voice still looking at my hands that lay on my lap.

Two tiny drops of tears left my eyes and fell directly on my hands without my consent.

"I don't remember"

He declares shutting my argument to a full stop without turning back.

"Why?"

He adds after a quick pause.

"I will find out"

I say to myself feeling the heaviness in my head and he turns around almost immediately.

"What?"

He asks with the same cold eyes I saw for the first time I met him a month ago.

"Nothing"

I walk out of the room without looking back at him.

I sit on the staircase in between and hold my head with my cold palms.

I want to escape this hell so I want you to be the treasure of my hunt but I don't want you, Vivian, to be that man from the horrific night of life and death I had tried so hard to bury deep within my conscious all this while.

But I swear to god if it was actually you... then I would die but never let a scratch scar you again in my presence or the other way around.

I felt fury take over my senses in no time.

✄ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈

I woke up early and left the house before anyone knew.

I felt so breathless every time the thought of finally finding the guy who rescued me that day crossed my mind while I layed down on the bed that was probably not frequently used much, last night.

As I sit on the bus on my way to the hospital where I was hospitalized two years ago, I can't help but let my thoughts get over me. The same thoughts I had worked so hard to put aside.

I was drunk.

I crashed my goddam car in his.

I injured him god knows where.

I was drunk as shit to cause such a massacre.

I was supposed to be handed over to the police.

I was about to kill him, man!

And all he does is pull me out of that broken car with shaking legs, having not much strength to handle himself well, he decided to take me to the hospital to save me and kept his identity hidden forever.