The Heartbroken - S01 E197

Story 2 years ago

The Heartbroken - S01 E197

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 197

“Kyla!” I heard him call me, but I hastened my pace

and ignored him.

Just as I touched the door handle, I felt him yank me

back.

“What’s wrong?” he uttered the words carefully, like

he was worried I might react violently if he startled

me.

When I turned to look at him, I had no intention of

telling him anything about the situation at all, but

when I saw this newfound determination in the way

his face was set—lips pursed, eyes focused but

pleading, every bit desperate to know what was

going on—I found myself taking a deep breath.

“Cedric’s in the hospital,” I said. “I have to go. I’m

sorry.”

I pulled my arm from his grip and turned away,

pushing the door open and rushing to my car.

I was busy trying to unlock my car when I realized

he went after me, pushing past the door and walking

towards me with sure and steady steps.

“I’ll drive,” he said.

I looked up at him in surprise. “What?”

“Your hands are shaking,” he said quietly, holding

out his hand for me to hand him the keys.

He had completely abandoned the negative aura he

had just a while ago and it was like he was back to

being the Seth I could always rely on.

I could tell, however, that it still lay underneath this

calm demeanor.

“You don’t have to,” I told him. “And besides, what’ll

you do with your car?”

“I don’t know what’s going on.” He took a step closer

and carefully pried the keys from my shaking hands.

I let him take them. “But I know you hate hospitals.”

I stared at him and tried to protest, but the words

died on my throat.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I was

relieved he was taking control, at least for now,

because I wasn’t sure if I could deal with this. Hail

told me Cedric collapsed, and that he was lucky

enough that it didn’t happen when he was out

driving on his way home because it happened just

as soon as he got home.

Worry and panic was overwhelming me, flooding

into my system until I was completely submerged,

gasping for air because all my other senses have

shut down.

Seth looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for an

answer.

There was something about the fact that he was

willing to put himself aside to help me that made me

think—really think—of taking the helping hand he had

extended.

I let out a shaky breath and stepped aside, bringing

my gaze to his. “He’s in St. John’s.”

—

One night when I was nine, my mom came into my

room and shook me out of sleep at three in the

morning. I remember trying to rub the sleep from

my eyes as she told me to get dressed, quickly,

because we had to hurry up.

When we got to the car, my dad was seated in the

back.

That in itself was a rarity, but at that moment, I didn’t

know its implications yet.

My mom opened the door on the passenger side

and asked me to get in, but I shook my head and

climbed into the backseat with my dad instead. He

was pale and hardly conscious, running a fever so

high that I remember being scared for him. I

watched him shiver, even though both Mom and I

were already sweating in the stifling air of the

confined space in the car, and kept my eyes on him

throughout the whole ride, afraid that he’d disappear

once I looked away.