A/N : This is the first time I'm sharing one of my personal works online. I'm usually posting stuff on , so I don't know what to expect from you all. This story has been written 2 years ago. Please review so I can be aware of what I should improve!

Also, please note that I'm a French native writing in English, so there may be mistakes - I apologize in advance for that.


"Put the gun down. You don't want to do this…" it sounds like he's almost begging her to stop. I can't move. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't: I know she would fire the gun once again. He's desperate to make her give up, and so am I. But what can I possibly do, being held as I am?

She isn't laughing anymore. Was she really joking about the situation, though? She's deadly serious about what's happening, and I'm not able to understand why. However, I need to know why she seems so determinate to make everyone involved suffer.

I close my eyes, praying for her not to do anything stupid, "Why are you doing this? I haven't made any mistake. I didn't want any of this to happen, trust me! Let him go! If you want to hurt someone, just–"

She squeezes my neck: I can't talk anymore. It feels like I could die any second, I can barely breathe now. She warns me furiously, "This is the last time I have to tell you. One more move and I shoot. You don't want to see your precious lover die right under your eyes, now do you?"

I can already feel my eyes closing. I can't resist anymore, she's way too strong for me.

If you want to kill me, why aren't you shooting?

It would've been less painful.


Thirty minutes prior…

It's freezing cold outside and it's almost 10 PM. At a time like this, one should be quietly staying at home, wrapped in some blankets, not running around in the middle of a city. But tonight, my boyfriend invited me out for a talk. He said that was important – really important, actually – and he didn't want us to go to his place. Why? He didn't say. That's just like him, anyway: he never tells anything. Ever so mysterious. I obey anyway, since I understand that he doesn't want to say everything that goes through his mind – I'm just like him. That's probably why we get along so well.

Our relationship isn't an easy one and will probably never get this chance. For years, we've been trying to overcome what was bothering us. A very delicate obstacle, to say the least. A person: his ex. A mad woman who was pressuring him, mentally torturing him for years, leaving him no choice but to lie to her all the time. It's true that we didn't always behave as we should have, but at some point, it was unbearable to not give in to temptation.

Yeah, he cheated on her. But it was almost over. Now, it is definitely over. All I can think about now is making her experience the suffering she brought upon him, but is it worth it? As for him, I think he's still unable to forgive himself. It could be one of the reasons why he invited me tonight.

We enter a hallway: as I thought, it's empty. Not a single person hanging around here, and it's no bad thing. Hopefully, this place is never closed, even at night: people coming from the underground car park need to walk this way to go out. I can't help but hope there aren't any security cameras: I wouldn't feel good if I knew someone could be watching us. I already feel bad at the idea of someone passing through. I don't like being in public – not that we planned anything out of the ordinary anyway, but I'm attached to staying in private.

We're not standing far from the doors: the cold air can get through, so I'm still freezing. I bet I could play on that.

I raise my voice, already begging him, "I'm cold…"

"Already complaining, are we?" he replies with a smile, "Here, take my jacket, if you want."

"If you don't mind…" I cross my arms and I wait for him to come closer, "I don't want you to be sick because of me."

"I'm not the type of guy who's cold easily."

As he starts putting his jacket on my shoulders, I take this opportunity to turn towards him and I throw myself into his arms. As expected, he's taken aback, and he doesn't react immediately.

"…So that's what you wanted. You could've asked, you know," he hugs me tightly and I close my eyes, "I'm not gonna say no."

"This whole thing is still hard on me. Sorry."

It's true that I'm not used to being held by him. Officially, we've been together for a week. Before, everything was still unsure. Being a shy person, I'm always afraid I'll be rejected by him. Deep down, I know he would never dare to say no to me.

I enjoy for a moment this time between us. I couldn't be happier to finally have him, even if it's still quite complicated and unclear. I'm not going to complain, not this time. A few seconds later, I decide to leave his embrace because I suddenly don't feel at ease, without knowing why.

He asks, "What?"

"I… Nothing… I just feel we should start talking."

A faint voice suddenly says, "I think not."

"Who…" I look for who just said that, and when it finally becomes clear, I cover my mouth with my hand not to scream, "Oh fuck!"

At my left, she's standing. His ex-wife is here, a few meters away from us. I don't have a single clue about how she found us, but I'm not dreaming. As I start panicking, the jacket which was on my shoulders falls to the ground, and I don't even think about picking it up. I take a step backwards without thinking. Damn, where has your desire for revenge gone? Why are you so scared of her?

He stares at her and starts, with a neutral expression, "How long have you been here?"

She replies with disdain in her voice, "Oh, I don't know… Since you left your home earlier? You didn't even notice. You're such a fool."

She's not herself. I don't know why, but even I can feel that something's off tonight. Is it her hatred towards me? Her hatred towards him? What is she planning? But more importantly: how is he even able to keep his cool in such a situation?

"What the hell is going on here?" I dare ask, swallowing, and my eyes go from her to him.

He asks her with a blaming tone, completely ignoring me, "What where you doing near my flat at such a time of the night in the first place?"

"I could ask you the same question. Why are you out there with her at past 10 PM?"

His voice suddenly turns colder than before and even I am starting to be really afraid, "Don't start playing to that little game with me, please. Answer me. Now."

"You think you're scaring me?"

I don't know where I belong. What am I even doing between these two? It wasn't supposed to go like that. Even if I wanted to interrupt them or say something relevant, I bet no one would look at me. All that's happening between them seem to be far from over.

"Look at what our relationship has become," she glares at me, "It's only normal for me to be here tonight."

"'Our relationship'? Sorry? I think you're missing the point here. Just to remind you, we're almost divorced. It's been more than one month already."

She replies with amusement, "And just in case you forgot the main issue, 'almost divorced' is still marriage."

So then the situation is amusing her. I'm starting to understand why he's so pissed at her. How can she joke at a time like that? She isn't helping herself at all.

"One thing's for sure: you know how to get on my nerves. Very quickly, at that."

Please, don't fall in her trap. She's just playing with you.

"What should I say? Dumping me like a pitiful teenager, only to go with… well, how ironic. A pitiful girl!"

Show her what you're made of. Show her how much you hate her. Don't let you fear her: she ruined both your lives.

I suddenly interrupt them as I decide to interfere. I glare back at her, "I'm not a pitiful girl. I'm worth more than that, unlike you. You should learn to know when to move on. The time when I was still afraid of you is gone, and your precious past with him too."

"Look who's rebelling."

How can you be so emotionless, even when I attack you?

He makes a sign for me to be quiet, "Please don't get involved. This is between us."

"I'm not going to let you both insulting yourselves right in front of me. This isn't how that was supposed to go."

"Oh, I'm all ears. What were the plans for tonight? Going back at his place to fuck all night?"

A loud silence suddenly falls between us. I can feel all my rage towards her trying to get out. I can't take it all in anymore. I've done it enough. She has no right to attack me on that. It's not even true. I start running towards her: I don't even know what I'm doing. At the last moment, however, he grabs me strongly by the arm so that I'm not able to escape and to touch her.

He starts losing his patience, "Don't. Don't listen to her!"

I yell at the two of them, "SHE HAS NO RIGHT TO TELL THAT!" This cry is so loud and sincere – it reveals all I've tried to suppress.

She makes fun of my reaction, "How hard it is to accept the truth."

He tries to calm us down, still holding me strongly, "There isn't any truth in what you've said. Just a pathetic provocation coming from the mouth of a woman who doesn't know when to grow up."

I need to calm down. I know he wants that from me. Things don't have to go that far. I take a deep breath, and as soon as he notices I've calmed down a little, he releases me. I trust him: he will know how to make things right. At least, that's what I'm hoping right now.

She doesn't give up. "That being told, your projects for tonight wouldn't surprise me. There's no need to lie."

He sighs and regains his composure too, "Stop playing with everyone's nerves like you do. Just tell me what you're doing here already."

"I wanted to have a big talk with you. I have been thinking a lot lately…"

Finally, she decides to answer correctly to one of his questions. That's the least she can do. I focus on what she has to say; I wouldn't want to miss that. Is she even telling the truth? Who knows how far her bluffs could go?

She resumes, sighing, "…But it seems that won't be needed. You've already forgotten everything, I see. That's too bad…" she puts one hand on the bag she's carrying on her shoulders, "I swear I really wanted to make it all clear. You've decided otherwise, then it changes everything."

Why is she so full of herself? I can't seem to find what makes her so confident and so angry at the time. It's as if she planned something, but she wouldn't say what it is.

"You know, in spite of all that happened… Yeah, I really loved you."

Hearing these words only pains me more. I could have sworn it wasn't true, I was so sure she was only playing with him all this time. Or is she still denying the obvious? I don't know what to think, but one thing is for sure: I didn't want to hear that coming from her mouth.

"…I know," he replies, looking at her bag.

Now it looks more like a familial drama.

He seems to be wondering too what she's planned. He shakes his head, "But let it go, now. Move on."

Everything happens too fast for me to even think about stopping her. She opens quickly her bag, and she grabs the pistol she was hiding in there.

So that's the reason.

She points it at him and pulls the trigger. At this moment, her face is filled with inhumanity.

My awful scream couldn't help. I jump in front of her, begging her, in the hope of taking the bullet instead, but I'm too late.

He falls to the floor in a loud noise, next to the jacket I've let down earlier. I try to hold back my tears, frightened by what I might see. Hopefully, she couldn't fire right in his heart. His leg was the one thing she hit with the bullet. He's unable to stand up after such a shock, and I can't tell whether his cry of pain is worse than the sound of the gun fired right under my eyes.

I can't move. I'm so frightened, I can't even think of something to say. She still has the gun pointed at him, but now that he's unable to move, I just want to run for my life. But I can't. Why, Lord, why can't I move? Is that how it feels to be right in the middle of suffering a trauma?

Even my tears won't flow on my cheeks. Suddenly, I'm nothing but a paralyzed, afraid "pathetic girl".

"'Move on', huh? Is that what you've said?" she starts with sparkling eyes, "Because the one who isn't going to move isn't me anymore."

I… I can't believe it. She just shot her "ex"-husband, and she doesn't feel a shred of guilt.

He tries to reply, stammering in pain, "You… You… Why…" He's obviously too shocked and hurt to answer. The injury is bleeding, and there's blood all over the floor. White, on top of that. I try not to panic because right now, I'm faced to my fear of blood in the worst possible manner. He grabs with difficulty his black jacket next to him to cover the ground and tries to press his injury.

Good idea. You've still got a hold of what's best for you… and for me.

I can't help but think he's going to be okay, even though I'm shaking like a child who just lost a parent somewhere in the cold. He can't let himself be crushed by an injury like this one.

You're stronger than a single bullet in your leg, aren't you?

He takes a deep breath, "You know no limits… How… How did you get that gun?"

"I pretended I had to submit a complaint about something tonight," she shakes his head and laughs, full of disdain, "Your friendly police officer is as silly as you are. His fault, though: the gun was lying on his office. He didn't even notice I stole it… But he should have, by now. I don't have much time."

Everything suddenly becomes clear. Her, lurking near his place with a stolen gun. Then her hatred really runs that deep… I swallow, and I really start to have some reasons to be afraid.

Please don't tell me she's serious about that. Please don't shoot again. Don't…

I was so focused on him that I didn't even notice someone grabbing me from behind and pointing a gun against my head. Her. I gasp, trying to free myself from her grip, but it's impossible. How do people act in a situation like this one? I've seen this on TV, but it's worse here. Unbelievable. She's completely losing her head… I'm afraid to die.

She asks, holding me tightly, "What are you gonna do now?"

I barely breathe because of the shock, "I… Let go of me…!" I can clearly sense the gun on my head, and I'd rather die now than feeling all the pain and the fear before it.

If you want to kill me, please do it now. Kill me instead.

He almost begs her, looking at me with pain in his eyes, "Let her go! She's got nothing to do with that!" He tries to get up, but it's pointless to even think about it.

I know you'd like to help me out…

I suddenly feel her left hand looking for my phone: she just found it, in the pocket of my jacket.

How foolish of me, to go out without anything else. But how could I know?

I see her throwing it in her bag but moving to get it back is impossible. She would kill me if I were trying to do that. Or kill him.

She then reaches him without letting go of me and grabs his bag. The same goes for his phone: she takes it for herself. None of us can call for help now, and there's not a single soul around.

"How do you feel now? No one will help. And God knows what I'm about to do," she tightens her grip around me, "I could kill her. Or you," she points the gun at him, "What if I were asking you to choose? It seems perfect. What do you think?"

The gun goes from him to me: she keeps on doing that for a moment. She's selecting her target, no doubt. This woman is completely mad.

At the same moment however, I can see a couple coming from the car park. When they notice the scene, I can read "Oh, my God!" on the lips of one of them. However, I blink and now, they're nowhere to be seen. Probably they thought that running away was the best option.

Please, tell me you've got a conscience and you'll call someone.

She finally stops the gun. Towards his direction… more precisely, his heart. Yet, it doesn't mean that she's ready to let me go: she holds my neck instead of pressing the pistol against my head.

"Put the gun down. You don't want to do this…" it sounds like he's almost begging her to stop. I can't move. Even if I wanted to, I know she would fire the gun once again. He's desperate to make her give up, and so am I. But what can I possibly do, being held like that?

She isn't laughing anymore. Was she really joking about the situation, though? She's deadly serious about what's happening, and to be honest I'm not able to understand why. However, I need to know why she seems so determinate to make everyone involved suffer.

I close my eyes, praying for her not to do anything stupid, "Why are you doing this? I haven't made any mistake. I didn't want any of this to happen, trust me! Let him go! If you want to hurt someone, just–"

She squeezes my neck: I can't talk anymore. It just feels like I could die any second, I can barely breathe now. She warns me furiously, "This is the last time I have to tell you. One more move and I shoot. You don't want to see your precious lover die right under your eyes, now do you?"

I can already feel my eyes closing. I can't resist anymore, she's way too strong for me.

If you want to kill me, why aren't you shooting me, instead of strangling me? It would've been less painful. Really.

Surprisingly, she notices my insufferable pain and she lets go of my throat just a moment to make me breathe again. Is that a glimpse of compassion that I'm catching out of her? No, it can't be. She just enjoys making me suffer.

Finally, he decides to interfere. "…W-What do you want from her?!"

Would that change anything? The only way to put an end to that would be to call the police, but there isn't a single person in the hallway. It's so late, I doubt anyone would find us. The couple of earlier probably just ran away, scared to death. No one, aside from us, would want to go out at 10:30 PM. How very unfortunate. This is all my fault, after all.

She looks at him. "Me? I want one simple thing. I just want her to suffer like I did during these last months."

"Suffer?! YOU suffered? Are you kidding me?" he almost yells by now, "You're the one who's responsible for all this, how can you blame her nor me for what happened? You've been ruining everyone's life!"

"Please… Don't…" I groan. Speaking seems to be the biggest difficulty I've ever met in my life. I don't want him to be hurt by her again. He's so brave, trying to go against her at a time like this. Is he really risking his life only to let me go?

She starts a long monologue, releasing a tiny bit her grip on me as she speaks, "It has always been her. Since the very beginning, it all comes back to her. Do you remember that evening, four years ago, when you told me and I quote, 'I've got to know this girl! She seems so interesting and different from the others. I can feel there's something about her, something I've gotta apprehend.' Then, I started to look for who she was. I couldn't bear to know you were spending so much time, every day, near her. How could such a pathetic girl like her seem interesting to you?"

"I'm sorry but I–"

Again, he was cut off by her. This woman really doesn't seem to be able to let others talk. "Defending her, again. Why do you keep on doing this? You're as pathetic as her and you know it. Look at you! Trying to get your way out of this mess, injured at the leg. You can barely stand up, and you try to confront me anyway? I swear I blame myself for these past four years."

"It was a mistake," he gasps in pain but it's not enough for him to stop talking, "It was a mistake to tell you about her. And you want to know what the biggest mistake of them all is? It was to marry you."

"Stop…" I beg him, hoping he'll stop to argue with her.

Damn you, you're risking your life!

"Oh, come on," she looks at me, "Please stop talking. You should be grateful to hear that from him. Is that not what you want so badly? Hearing him saying how much he regrets his life choices? But don't get me wrong," she puts on an evil smile – it freaks me out – and she adds, "Maybe you're gonna have fun with him, but as soon as he's bored, he'll make you understand, and he'll cheat on you. Is that really what you're looking for?"

He glares at her, "I've never cheated on you. Never. Stop reversing the situation in your favor."

Lie. Well, a half-lie, at the very least. He's forgiven.

If I wasn't risking my life – our lives – right now, I would've burst out laughing at this sentence. How ironic. For once, she accuses him of something well-founded. Our gazes cross each other, and I'm pretty sure he knows about what I'm thinking right now.

"And, by the way," he adds, "Stop trying to force her into doing things. Who told you she was going to be with me? No one here, as far as I recall."

That was the biggest lie I've ever heard tonight. I cannot answer and we both know why.

She retorts with disdain in her voice, "You're pathetic. Your lies are pathetic. I saw you earlier, just in case you forgot."

"What's the matter? If I were lying, why do you care anyway?" He emphasizes, "We are not together anymore. What I'm going to do with my life is none of your concern."

Harsh but true. Please don't make her shoot you again.

"So you're lying."

"Damn you, quit being such a pain in the ass!"

Ouch. This one was worse.

The silence that just fell between us must be even more awkward than every silence that ever happened between him and me. I'm scared about how she could react, but as soon as I close my eyes not to see what she's going to do, I hear loud voices and agitation in the hallway. When I reopen my eyes, I notice four policemen running towards us. One of them seems utterly shocked by the scene, and I can't blame him for that. They've just discovered three people alone in a hallway at 10:45 PM: two women, one struggling to be freed of the grip of another holding a pistol, and a man almost lying on a white floor, with a bleeding injury at the leg. All of this caused by the gun one of the women is holding.

"Hands up! Let the girl go!"

Someone must've called the police. Surely, it was this couple who just happened to be passing through earlier. I couldn't thank them enough it I were to see them again: they saved us from this mess.

It's not over yet, though. I still don't know if he's going to be okay, even less if she'll accept to be taken away.

But it's not the only reason. The police need to get her.

"No…" She doesn't seem to accept what's going on. She hates being defeated, and she knows deep down she won't resist too much. Does she realize what she has done? The consequences will be unbearable – but that's none of my concern.

The police are getting close to us: we all know it's the end for her, but she doesn't look ready to be the first one to give up.

Me neither.

As soon as the policemen grab her and maintain her to make sure she isn't able to escape, I run and I grab the gun she let down on the floor. I point it at her, ready to shoot, and I look at her as if I was going to kill her. I want her to believe that. I want her to be scared. I want her to plead for her life.

Revenge, best served cold. Now, they shoot me or I shoot her. The only thing I want is run towards him and tell him everything is going to be okay, but I can't let this unfinished. We'll have our moment together when she'll be taken away.

Deep down, I know I'm not going to shoot but still, I try to convince myself.

Hopefully, the policemen are likely to trust me and won't try anything against me.

One of them starts yelling at me as I was expecting. "Miss, don't do anything stupid! Let that gun down and put your hands up or I'm going to have to do it the other way. You wouldn't want to be hurt, too. I think this has gone far enough, don't make us do what we could have done for her."

"I'm sorry, but… I… I have to do that." I take two steps closer to her, slowly, and I can see she's going from indifference to fear the closer I get. "Feeling unwell, now? You see how it looks to be threatened all the time, to have only one thing going through your mind?"

"…"

No answer coming from her, obviously. She just stares at me, and her look betrays her. I know she's shocked and maybe a little afraid of what I could do with that gun.

"Hey, don't do anything stupid!" I can hear him begging me just behind where I stand, but I need not to focus on what he says.

Pretend he's not here. Forget about him, or you'll give up immediately.

I ignore him as I continue my monologue, "You understand now how I've been feeling these past four years? Each time I was going to see him, I was afraid you'd show up between he and I. I was afraid you'd learn about what was going on and you'd try to steal him from me, though you already had everything. Deep down, I knew he was forbidden to do what he wanted." I hold tightly the pistol, "I was never free to be with him. And that's all because of you. In the end, you still succeeded."

She replies in a flash with an aggressive tone – nothing seems to disturb her, "You're wrong, you little bitch. There was one thing I never had from him," she swallows, "Love."

No one replies. I glance at her while I think about what I could reply: is she serious? She can't be. I want to believe she's lying. Yet, the truth is, he hasn't told me about that. He has yet to do it. After all, maybe that was what he wanted to say to me tonight? Maybe I'll never know.

"You're wrong… I know you are…" I release a little my grip over the gun, "Then, in that case, why did he marry you? Why did he do so much if it wasn't real? Tell me!"

"He doesn't know himself! He said so earlier!" she starts laughing in a way that creeps me out, "It's the biggest regret in his life. Everything in this story makes him regret somehow."

"Then I'm gonna ask you this: who's to blame? Is it really me? Is it him? Don't you believe you are the one who put us all in this whole mess?"

I hear his voice: he suddenly joins the conversation, "Come on. Don't go saying you didn't receive any love from me, now. You know very well what I felt for you, and you know what happened between us. Stop playing the attention-seeker…" He groans in pain: I guess his injury still hurts him a lot. It's not very surprising knowing that he's been half lying on the floor without any help for thirty minutes.

Dammit, where are the emergencies? What the fuck are they doing?

He presses his injury with his hand and adds, looking at the one who used to be the one who shared his life, "You've done that enough. No need to be so mad at me."

"You…!"

The policemen grab her more strongly because they probably noticed she was about to kick them out to reach us.

Someone please take this woman away before anything bad happens between her and me.

"I think I've heard enough." I say sharply, "Now, I'm gonna let you all leave, before his condition worsens and before I pull the trigger." I take two more steps towards her so that there are only a few centimeters between us too. I look her firmly in the eye, not giving up and still holding the gun towards her, and I finally say: "Enjoy your time all alone to think about all that and may you answer for your actions."

I let the gun fall to the floor: as soon as the police see me giving up, they take her away, and she doesn't seem to protest. Good.

When she turns around, I run towards him.

Finally. How long I've waited for this. I wouldn't have been able to fake my emotions much longer.

I try not to focus myself too much on the blood all over the ground; I just need to stay here with him before the emergencies come to help us.

"Oh my God…!" I cuddle him, taking care not to hurt him more, "How are you feeling? Please, be brave a little more… I'm sorry… This is all my fault if she–"

He interrupts me firmly, "Stop. Stop putting the blame on yourself. Look at me," he held my face between his hands, "Calm down and listen. Do I look like I'm not okay?"

I look up at him and our gazes cross each other; we're only a few centimeters apart. I reply shyly, "You're still bleeding… There's blood all over your leg… I'm just afraid…"

"No need for that. And you're not responsible for anything that happened, either." He flinches, again. I don't have to think too much to understand he's clearly in pain, but he won't say it.

His voice is always shaking a little, and he thinks I'm going to believe him when he says he's okay?

He strokes softly my cheek, "Don't let her go to you."

"Look at what she's done… Look at everything she's destroyed…" I burst into tears as soon as I end my sentence. I bury my face in his chest, not wanting him to see me cry. However, I know he's going to worry even more.

Fuck it. I don't want him to have me look at him. Don't let him make me do that. Don't…

"Hey, please!" Now, he strokes kindly my hair as if he was trying to comfort a child who just had a nightmare, "Stop. She hasn't destroyed anything. What she did only allowed us to get closer to each other. She lost in the end. She lost everything. And that's what she deserves. Don't fall in her trap, please, don't. I refuse to see you cry because of her."

He must be right. Now that no one is getting in our way anymore, everything's going to be different. I calm down thanks to his words, and I wipe away some of my tears running down my cheeks.

"I've already cried so much because of her before. You never knew. Why would I have told you anyway?"

"It was complicated. But we have to move on."

Suddenly, there's noise coming from outside. I can't help but pray these people are coming here for us. I listen carefully only to hear men talking about some "injured people". They're coming down the stairs: as I have hoped, it's the emergencies. Time to get up.

"We were waiting for you…" I say, walking towards them. "I'm afraid his injury is going to worsen if no one takes care of that."

One of the men takes the gun lying on the floor with him. The policemen apparently forgot the damn thing in some corner of the hallway, when I let it down earlier. It probably rolled there.

His colleague looks at me, then his gaze stops on my boyfriend, "Can't walk, can you?"

"I really can't." He shows him the injury, between his left ankle and his knee.

"We've got everything you need, don't worry," he addresses me, "Sorry we're late, the police had some trouble to warn us about where you two were. Doesn't anyone here have a phone?"

"The woman… The one who did that…" I start, my voice shaking again, "She took our two phones with her to make sure no one could call for help."

As the man who's talking to me rolls his eyes – I can't blame him for being surprised, I hear his two colleagues starting to install the injured on a stretcher. Obviously. I try not to pay too much attention at the scene, because it only pains me more to be faced to reality.

I still don't understand how we got here. Is it a dream?

"We'll be taking him to the hospital. It wouldn't be safe to let him without any care much longer."

"Do you know when he'll be released?" I look at him as he's being taken away by the two men, and as soon as they're outside the hallway, I stare at the ground for a moment.

He smiles kindly at me, "Probably by tomorrow evening, or at worse, in two days. I think it'll be enough. You can go there during the visit hours and say hello."

"I will. Thank you…" I smile back at him.

Now, I know he'll be in safety. We both will. Everything we need is time, and fear must not get the better of us.

Finally, we will be able to live in peace for she's never going to be around anymore.

Her existence will eventually become nothing but a distant memory: that's what she's bound to become.