Destinado a ti (Fayeyoko)

8

The weight of memories crushed Yoko, making her feel smaller in the immensity of the night. Sitting on the park bench, alone under the cover of darkness, each tear that escaped seemed to take a piece of her strength. His sobs resounded in silence, as if the sadness itself had become his only witness. Embracing herself, her hands running around her own arms in search of comfort, Yoko tried in vain to calm the storm that was shaking her from within.

—-------------

Faye, in the car, watched the scene paralyzed, fingers still white to hold on to the wheel. He knew that he had crossed a line with Yoko, that something much deeper had broken between them. He felt that he had opened a wound that he might never be able to heal.
After a few minutes, he took a deep breath, parked carefully and stepped out of the car. His steps were insecure and cautious, each one full of hesitation. He approached Yoko in silence, trying to decide the right words, though the guilt weighed too much on his chest.

-And... Yoko... I'm sorry, Faye muttered, breaking the silence as she sat next to her, not daring to look directly at her.
Yoko was still, staring at some distant point as if she were somewhere else, lost between her thoughts and her own demons. His sobs had calmed down, but the tension in his body was still present, impenetrable. Faye, with a trembling voice, continued.

—I know I messed up... I went too far. I'm really sorry, Yoko -she repeated, and almost unconsciously, her trembling hand rested on Yoko's thigh as an attempt at connection, of comfort.

To her surprise, Yoko did not react with anger. Instead of exploding, she began to speak, her voice soft and almost in a whisper, laden with such deep pain that Faye felt a chill.

-I was only eight when it happened... - Yoko whispered, her gaze still lost in the void -. They were all to me...
Faye felt a sting in his chest, unable to look away from Yoko, who seemed increasingly fragile, breaking before her eyes.

—It was Grandma's birthday. I always went with her in the back of the car... My grandfather used to take it every year to his favorite restaurant because... he loved it.

As Yoko continued, her breathing became increasingly rapid and choppy, as if the knot in her throat was about to choke her. Faye listened carefully, every word of Yoko was like a thorn in her side.

—A drunk driver was coming at full speed. And... - Yoko stopped, trying to hold her composure as tears fell back-. I only remember the impact, the pain... and my grandmother's embrace. She held me tight, like a shield... She let the impact be her.

Yoko trembled at the moment, her hands were cold and sweaty. Almost by reflex, Faye took his hands, stroking them gently in small circles, hoping that it would help even a little.

-Yoko... I didn't know... - whispered Faye, not letting go of her hands, her own eyes humping at Yoko's confession.

Yoko's voice trembled, but it continued, letting the pain flow, venting for the first time in years.

—Remember arriving at the hospital. It was all confusing; my ears were numb, my head... felt like it was going to explode. The nurses examined me, but I only wanted my grandmother... and until...
Yoko sighed deeply, trying to gather strength to continue.

—Until I woke up four months later, said Yoko, her voice trembling as her eyes met those of Faye, who was watching her attentively, aware of the emotional burden that her story carried. A light, sad smile was drawn on Yoko's lips before her gaze wandered away, as if the words that remained to be said were too heavy.
Faye, immersed in the intensity of the moment, felt her own tears build up in her eyes, struggling to get out, to share the pain that emanated from Yoko's story.