Romeo and Juliet

58- K

Chaos and Uncertainty

My mind struggles to grasp the situation. Holly stands before me, her eyes wide, radiating concern as if my very existence hangs in the balance. Seeing her here—under these chaotic circumstances—is the shock that rattles me the most.

"Get on," she says urgently, her voice slicing through the confusion.

The mere thought of mounting another motorcycle sends a jolt of dread through me. I shake my head, each word tangling in my throat, heavy with fear and uncertainty.

"Go with her," Romeo shouts, his hands firm yet gentle as he tries to lift me to my feet. Despite my instinct to resist him, my body feels weak and unresponsive, teetering on the edge of collapse.

With a firm grip, he pushes me onto the motorcycle. I hiss as I awkwardly settle in, wrapping my arms around Holly's waist, a strange mix of adrenaline and anxiety coursing through me. I hear the rumble of another bike in the distance, but as we tear out of the parking lot and into the pulsing heartbeat of the city, it fades away into the whirlwind around us. I force myself to stay alert, even as the erratic environment threatens to overwhelm my senses.

Holly's riding is exhilaratingly chaotic. She is reckless in her maneuvers, whipping around corners and dodging traffic as if she were born to this life. Maybe she is better than Romeo, or perhaps worse—I can't decide. But one thing is clear: had I been on Holly's bike during our earlier escape, maybe we would have evaded capture entirely. It seems the worlds of Holly and Romeo intertwine in ways I never imagined, creating a bond through their shared chaos. And while I can't stand her—though I can't pinpoint why—I can't help but feel a strange connection.

The nauseating churn in my stomach intensifies, a battle raging within me. I wonder if this is what it feels like to truly be on the brink.

"Holly, stop!" My voice barely rises above the wind, but she seems to sense my distress. The motorcycle slows, and I breathe a momentary sigh of relief as she pulls over.

As soon as we come to a stop, she effortlessly helps me off the bike, but a rush of dizziness overtakes me. I grip my hair tightly, trying to stave off the impending wave of nausea. I am acutely aware of the rustling sounds behind me, noises that hint at the presence of others, though I can scarcely focus. The world fades to black.

I awaken in a place that feels utterly foreign. The couch beneath me is stiff and unyielding, only exacerbating my discomfort. The mingling scents of antiseptic and something floral fill my nostrils, neither soothing nor comforting. I sense the presence of people around me before my eyes flutter open.

"Take it easy," a deep male voice assures me. A cold, damp cloth brushes under my nose, and I instinctively turn away, still dazed.

The room is bright, throwing my senses into disarray. I glance down to find a man carefully cleaning my leg, his hands precise and professional. I catch a glimpse of the others, all strangers except for Holly, who watches me with a mixture of concern and relief.

"Why am I not home?" I murmur, my voice hoarse and cracked.

"Romeo will take you when he arrives," the man replies, his tone steady.

I don't panic, remembering what I've learned: panic only surrenders control, and I refuse to let that happen.

"I can't wait for him all night. I have important things to do."

Holly raises an eyebrow and chuckles softly. "Like what? Kick ball?"

"Like throwing darts at a picture I have of you in my room. Now take me home," I demand, but as I attempt to shift my body, a jolt of pain surges through me. It feels like a bolt of lightning, coursing through every nerve.

"Why am I being chased?"

"Family matters," Holly explains. The man's hands continue their work with a lightheartedness that doesn't match the weight of my questions.

"As far as I know, my parents aren't part of a mafia," I reply, a hint of sarcasm threading through my voice.

The doctor smirks as he wraps my wound, the corners of his lips curling into a disarming smile.

"What's funny?" I ask, grateful for his care but frustrated by the situation.

"Well, if you had returned home looking like a beaten piñata without proper care, your mom would have had a heart attack. But now that's taken care of. I'll write you some prescriptions. You can come back to the clinic anytime you need." He hands me a piece of paper, and I tuck it away, my head swirling with confusion and annoyance.

Despite his apparent youth, he exudes a charm that makes me forget my discomfort.

"Kirian is our doctor. He helps us with these things," Holly informs me, her gaze flicking back to me, reading my myriad of questions. But all I want is to go home. 

"Romeo will explain everything when he arrives," she adds.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." As if on cue, Romeo strides in. His presence instantly shifts the atmosphere; he's a whirlwind, a storm with scars etching stories on his arms. I flinch, momentarily overwhelmed, my anxiety bubbling over. I have a million questions racing through my mind, and each one feels urgently alive, demanding to be answered.