Chapter 31 Hallucination
VICTORIA
Mr Thompson spun around and pulled out a gun when I told him that he had someone behind him.
He threw his head in all directions, his eyes dimming in confusion.
“There was no one behind you," I muttered, and his lips pursed out in annoyance.
“What was that about?" He almost snapped.
I sighed and slowly sat up while gripping my head. It felt like there was a wild party going on in my head with little monsters jumping around in my head and slamming their fists in it.
“I think I was hallucinating," I muttered, my hand still wrapped around my bent head.
The pain was too much, so unbearable that I feared I might end up in the hospital.
“Come on, get up, I need to take you out of here,” he muttered, and before I could reply, he cupped me into his arms then walked off.
My eyes were fixed on the path the man had taken, my heart shrinking at the failure I had.
I finally caught him after years, and I couldn't even get the truth out of his mouth.
I clenched my fist as I boiled in Mr Thomson's arms.
I didn't just have one killer to deal with, but two. I would make him pay, I promise.
Mr Thompson walked down the path silently. I wasn't surprised that he didn't begin an interrogation of who I was chasing after or why.
But what I didn't understand was how he knew it wasn't the killer.
“How did you know I was here?" I began the questioning.
He paused and looked at me, his brows raised.
“I saw you jump over the fence,” he muttered.
My throat knotted, and I flushed in embarrassment.
“Did my dad tell you to come here?’ I continued.
He narrowed his eyes and looked at me again, his lips twitched up.
“Since you didn't, he did," he replied.
I smuggled closer to him, inhaling his cologne as he walked around the path to the front gates of the family graveyard.
He trudged to his car parked outside the graveyard and pulled the door open, then leaned into the car with me still smuggled into his arms.
“What are you doing?" I asked when he gently dropped me in.
"I need to dress your wound,” he muttered and reached into his trunk and pulled out a little first aid box.
He knelt in front of me, the car quiet aside the creaking sound of the opening first aid kit.
The small bruise on my knee was beginning to darken, a faint purple spreading around it. It hurt so much that I tried to brush it off with a chuckle, but he looked at me and smiled, understanding what I was hiding. He raised my leg gently and steadied it against his thighs before reaching into the first aid box for the antiseptic.
The moment the antiseptic wipe brushed against the bruise, I flinched in pain.
"Sorry, I'll be more gentle," he muttered softly.
He dabbed at the bruise with slow, careful movements, his hands warm when they brushed against my skin.
I watched the concentration in his face. The way his brows knitted in seriousness, the way he handled me like I would break if he made a mistake, it all made my heart tighten.
I took a sharp breath and shook my head, shaking off the feelings.
"That should be it," he whispered, reaching for a small adhesive bandage.
He peeled it open then pressed it lightly over the bruise, smoothing the edges with his thumb.
His hand lingered on my knee longer than necessary as he stared down at the bruise he had dressed.
My heart clenched when he looked up and locked eyes with me, our faces just a few inches away, with our breath hitting each other's faces.
"All done," he whispered, and I felt chills wash over my spine as his breath brushed over my flushed face. I swallowed hard, my heart racing.
"Thank you," I spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.
He smiled lightly and let my legs slide down from his hold. I could swear I felt his fingers brush my leg again before he let go.
I made to stand up, but pain throbbed in my knee, forcing me to remain glued to the seat.
Mr Thompson looked at me, noticing the discomfort I was trying to hide behind a forced smile.
“Here, I'll help you," he muttered and didn't wait for a reply before wrapping his hand around my waist.
I stared at his face, which had gone cold again, as he lifted me into his hands.
He carried me out of the car and gently dropped me on the ground.
“Can you walk?" His face was so close that my heart flipped. His lips were right above my cheek, his wet lips almost smearing against my cheek.
My lips parted and slammed shut, and my toes coiled into the ground as my belly knotted.
“Hmm?"
His lips were now on my flesh, his hand tightening around my shoulder while his body pressed closer to mine.
‘What was he doing?’ I thought to myself
Was he deliberately doing this?
I took a deep breath and clenched my fist, my legs suddenly feeling wobbly.
“Yes!" I gasped out.
He straightened up and shifted away from me, his eyes still fixed on my flushed face.
I forced a smile on my face and began to walk towards the gate, trying to hide the limp.
“I'll get my flowers," he said. I paused and nodded before continuing my walk to the graveyard. I walked into the graveyard with my head down, daring not to look up at the faces of my family.
I froze and snapped my head to the side when I felt a warm hand grip my trembling hand.
Relief washed over me when my eyes fell on Mr Thompson's face.
“Hold your head high, Miss Victoria," he muttered in a soft voice. My heart warmed up, and every fear hiding within me disappeared.
“Yes, boss," I replied with a smile.
But my smile faded and my heart dropped into the pit of my belly when my eyes fell on the bouquet in his hand.
“Black roses?" I whispered in horror, and his eyes darted to the bouquet in his hand.
“Yes, black roses. Isn't that your mom’s favorite?” he said, and my throat ran dry.