**Vincent**
Michelle has way of having her way with someone, she just knows how to get answers out of someone, one look or action from her and you'd be spilling everything.
And unfortunately, I'm no expection. I cleared my throat, she was asking how I got the accident and the look on her face just made it impossible for me to not talk.
“Two nights ago." I answered plainly and went back to my work.
A long silence passed between us, the tapping of the table had stopped earlier and it was as though she was no longer before me.
A gasp from her made me look up, the shocked expression on her face has widened even more.
“Was it- was it when you left my house?” She asked.
Saying the truth would only make her blame herself, but I'd have to anyways.
“Yes, it was that night." I answered.
It was all still fresh in my memory, I had left her house in anger and was driving way above the speed limit when I joined the highway.
“She f*cking called me a liar, I should have never even moved an inch from my house, it would be better that way, instead of being blamed.”
I muttered to myself as I joined the highway. I didn't even know I was driving at an incredibly high speed, the only thing I knew was that cars were zooming past me so fast that I could barely see anyone of them.
The breeze and how swiftly my car was running was kind of comforting and I didn't have the intention of stopping.
Well, not until another that was taking the wrong lane appeared before me, I had turned sharply to avoid being hit and that was successful, only that my car hit the bumper by the roadside.
The effect was so sharp that my car's windscreen was shattered, my head hit the steering and somehow, my hand got injured.
“I -i how did- what hap- I'm sorry." She stuttered, her eyes had widened with horror and trepidation.
Regret and blame was so obvious on her face, she was blaming herself. I saw tears well up in her eyes too as she looked at me, her eyes assessing the bandaged part of my body.
“It's all my fault, I shouldn't… it was all because you came to my house that day.” She stuttered, she couldn't even meet my eyes anymore.
"You weren't the one driving the car, Michelle, how is it your fault?” I asked her with one of my brows furrowed together.
“But you came to my house. If you hadn't come, you'd still be okay. It could have been worse than this, I don't know what would happen if you had d- I don't want to think about it." She was sobbing fully now.
Why was she even crying? She's not the one hurt here, yet she's the one bawling her eyes out.
“Can you stop crying?" I asked, seeing more tears slid down her face.
She stood up abruptly from the chair, her chest heaved up and down.
"No you don't understand, this can't happen. What if you didn't survive- it'll be the second time. They were right… they were right.”
What would be the second time, and who was right?
I couldn't voice out the questions before she ran out of my office. She picked up her cleaning materials by the door.
Yet people think I'm the only bipolar one around here. How did she go from being so playful and pushy to sobbing in a matter of minutes?
All through the morning, my mind kept going back to Michelle. She acted really weird before leaving my office.
I knew she was going to blame herself, but the last words she said before getting out of my office was kind of surprising.
Seconds turned to minutes and minutes into hours that it was soon time for lunch.
The pain in my hand has increased kind of, it has doubled up. I texted Liam to help me get the takeout I just ordered so I could use my drugs.
I rested my back on my chair, just staring into space because my head felt like it would split into two too with the kind of headache I was feeling.
A knock came on my door and thinking it was Liam, I muttered a 'come in', it was so low that I could only hope he heard me.
The door was pushed open and i groaned in relief. Instead of Liam though, it was Michelle I saw.
She came into the room with a package in her hand that has the name of the restaurant I ordered from written on it.
“Where's Liam?" I asked as I pushed myself to sit appropriately.
“Uh, I don't know. Here's your food." She replied, coming to drop the food before me.
“He was the one I told to bring the food." I frowned.
"No, you texted me.” She concurred.
Did my rising headache brings memory loss too? I checked my phone to see that she was the one i texted truly.
How did I mistake Liam for Michelle? Their names are after the other on my contact list alphabetically though, that should be the problem.
“Right, thank you." I mumbled, putting down my phone.
“It’s nothing.” She said.
I expected her to leave after that, but she stood.
"Is there any other thing you want?” I asked.
She cleared her throat, "I wanted to ask how you're feeling now?”
"I'm doing better.”
"You don't look it though. You look like you're in deep pain. The air conditioner is blowing really hard and you're sweating, your eyes aren't the same too.” She rushed out like she was just waiting for the perfect time to do that.
She noticed me that much? Even I didn't know that I was sweating.
“I’m okay though.” I shrugged and tried to open up the package.
"Can I help you with that?" She asked, after seeing me struggle with only one functioning hand.
I hated being dependent on someone or not getting something done myself so I shook my head.
“Let me help you out with it."