Chapter 9: A Rejection

“Are you alright?” Leomord pulls me up, checking me up and down. “Are you hurt somewhere?”

“Why did you shoot him?” I clutch against his hard chest, sobbing.

“He was going to hurt you, Anastasia,” he gently tries to calm me down. “I understand that he's your brother, but he's not a good person.”

I nod my head like I understand, not hearing the pained whimpers.

“Let's get out of here. Alex might call the cops on us,” he urges me.

“But I still don't know what hospital mom is in.”

“Well, let's search for any report in your mom's room. That should have any hospital name.”

We rush to my mom's room, and I hysterically go through her drawers. After a few moments, Leomord whistles, holding a x-ray file in his hand.

“Found it. Let's go, Anastasia.”

On our way back the front door, I notice Alex lie motionless in the kitchen floor, his left leg drenched with blood, the knife still gripped tightly in his hand.

“Shouldn't we call a doctor?”

“I guess we will make a call later. Let's leave for now,” Leomord almost drags me out of the house.

We take a taxi and on the way to hospital, we keep silent. Maybe it's because we're both overwhelmed by what happened. Why did my life turn into something unfortunate like this? I don't have the answer to this question either.

“We're here,” he taps my shoulder roughly after twenty minutes, as the taxi stops in front of a white colored building.

In the receptionist, Leomord does the talking, and I stand alone a few feet before him. And of course, he knows my mother's name too. It's like he has memorised my bio-data quite well. I don't think of him as creepy, he has helped me enough that I can't repay him in this lifetime.

As we reach the fourth floor, where my mom's cabin is, the nurse in authority says, “Miss Jones is sleeping right now and she shouldn't be bothered. You can go see her inside, but kindly don't wake her up.”

I nod my head in affirmation, and swirl the cabin door knob.

There she lies on the narrow bed, motionless, covered with monitors and beeping sound. I sniffle, can't bear this sight of her.

“Her situation is that bad? How did this even happen?” I whisper.

“She needs a kidney transplant, so yeah, it's kinda bad,” Leomord whispers back.

“I can give her one of mine.”

“Let's not be emotional here, Anastasia. You're pregnant. I'll talk with the authorities and find a donor for her.”

“Thank you.”

I slowly walk up to her and kiss her forehead. Her face is pale, her eyelashes fluttering at times.

“Please, get better, mom.”

We step out of the cabin after a few minutes, and I feel quite distressed. The hallway is empty, and I don't think there's another patient in this floor except floor. Distant noises and clattering come from the lower floors.

“Can we sit here for a while? I'm feeling quite tired,” I indicate at the lined-up chairs in the hallway.

“Sure,” he holds my hand. I lean on his shoulder, my breathing becomes irregular. So I take off the mask.

“Are you alright?” he gently asks.

“I will be,” I tilt my head, against his neck and close my eyes.

He smells good. And I slowly drift into another world, tightly gripping his hand. My fingers run through his, he doesn't move, doesn't stop me either. I pull up my one leg on his, wanting closer. My breathing becomes unsteady, I'm literally panting.

My lips find his pulse on their own, and after a moment, I kiss his neck. I slowly wait for a rejection, with my eyes closed, but it doesn't come. So I grow braver, holding the other side of his neck with my hand, my mouth moving up to his jaw, to his stubble.

I want to have him so bad.

“Stop, Anastasia,” he moves aside.

I open my eyes, noticing his dark hooded eyes, how his breathing is unstable.

“Why?” I stare at him, clinging still.

“It's wrong,” he shakes his head, pulling out his hand from mine. “Let's stop this and go to the woods.”

“Why is it wrong?” I press.

“Don't act immature. You know I'm almost twice your age. I help you out all the time doesn't mean you can take advantage of me. Well, it's kind of my fault too. But you initiated it,” he stands up, looking angry. “Let's go.”

I silently follow him from behind, hiding the urge to cry. It's the first time he has talked to me in such tone. I guess I should have better controls of my emotions. I'm not a kid anymore. I'm an adult, so I should take responsibility for my actions.

When we reach the woods, it's almost afternoon. Leomord has discussed with the hospital for a donor, and I have donated all the money I had in my bank account for my mom's treatment. I don't know if I still believe in God, after everything that happened. But I pray, that my mom can get better soon.

We finish our dinner early, and Leomord lies down on the floor without a word. I glance at him, and I can feel that he's going to give me the cold shoulder for a while. But that's okay. Out of all the things he did for me, he's allowed to be angry at me, at least once. Maybe he expected something better from me, not to hit on him like a horny teenager.

But why am I not ever enough?

“I'm sorry, Leomord. I won't do something like that ever again,” I whisper, tears welling up in my eyes.

“It's alright,” he responds after a minute. “Good night, Anastasia.”

“Please, don't hate me,” I try to see him in the dark.

“I don't hate you,” he sighs. “I would never. Get some sleep.”

I nod my head and lie down on the bed, completely unsure about the purpose of my existence in the world.