Her Wrath |Completed| ✔️

Part 38

Unedited.

Tyrone Argyros POV

'P- promise to take c- care of yourself a- and our c- children, if I don't make it o- out alive.'

Her words still echoes in my head, chasing my sleep away.

It's been six months since I last heard her voice or saw her precious sapphire gems, our boys never left her side. Arcadia and Acacia are too young to witness such thing that's why I left them with the sisters.

However Egan, Eyton, Jacob, and Eden refused to leave the hospital's room ever since they found out what happened.

Eden's injury was somewhat healed, but he still shouldn't move too much yet he wouldn't listen. He said that he wouldn't leave his madre's side for anything.

Eyton sleeps every night snuggled to my chest, he wanted to sleep by his mother's side but I convinced him that he might hurt her if he did. So he opted for sleeping on my chest instead, his tears too like his brothers' are yet to be dried.

As for Egan he barely spoke during the last few months, neither did let go of his mother's hand. He sleeps with it tightly grasped in his small hands, I even saw him multiple times praying with his both hands wrapped around hers with his eyes shut tightly. Earnestly praying for her to be back to him.

When he first knew about the accident he fell on the ground sobbing loudly, his tears stained his cheeks for days. I've rarely saw him crying since he reached the age 5, he always said that crying was not for men and that he had to be strong to be able to protect his siblings. So when I saw him crying for almost a month while locking himself up in his room, it broke my heart more.

Flashbacks.

One day one of the maids called me saying that she heard some noise coming from his room along with screaming for awhile before it suddenly stopped. I left the hospital heading home to his room only to find it locked.

After breaking in I was shocked and scared at the same time, his room was a mess. Clothes were scattered carelessly around the room, the nightstand was flipped over, the flower vases along with picture frames were broken and laying on a floor surrounded by splatters of blood. And there in the far end of the room laid my son unconscious with his wrists cut and a razor blade laying in his sickly pale hand.

I rushed to him, fear gripping my heart and mind like no other. My precious son was a mess, hair disheveled, cheeks stained with tears, skin unhealthily pale, he even got thinner. I picked him up and rushed him to the hospital.

When he finally woke up few days later, and I asked him why he did it. He simply said, 'it's been a month since she got hit, and she's yet to wake.'

'So? Is that an excuse to harm yourself?' I asked sternly.

'If she's gone, I would have no one to care for me. Why would I continue living when my momma isn't here anymore?' He answered sobbing.

'What about me? Aren't I a reason enough for you?'

'She's my momma. She's everything to me. I can't live in a world where she doesn't exist. I'm sorry, dad!' His tears were still flowing unhindered.

'Who said anything would happen to her? You harmed yourself based on some mere assumptions!' I was barely controlling my anger.