𝙑𝙞𝙭𝙚𝙣 || 𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙁𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙧

Twenty seven.

Chapter twenty seven: Syndicate

Matthew woke up in a panic. He was sweating profusely, his heart beating rapidly and with his eyes darting to the bright sunshine that shone through his window, he heaved a sigh. The last thing he remembered was embracing the darkness and he was almost sure he heard glass break. 

Fear crossed his expression and with his gut instinct yelling out to him that something was wrong, he automatically assumed it was the men he owed money to. During his sister's absence, he resorted back to old ways to provide himself with an escape from reality and upon falling hooked on the illegal substances, he took more than he could afford. Now, he was terrified of the consequences, for they'd only use his sister as revenge, much like Lorea's men would do to him. They were never safe in their apartment but now, they desperately needed to escape before they were slaughtered like animals.

He hurled himself out of bed, not bothering to grab the lone shirt off the ground and when he tugged his shorts on, he grabbed the baseball bat and entered the hallway, quietly on his toes with his weapon raised.

From what it seemed, the apartment was untouched. The little they owned remained intact and if the drug dealers had busted in, there would be clear evidence of their mark and their presence would have been made known. Although he stood tall with his six foot two height, he would be defenceless against a ruthless bunch of criminals, unless his sister was in the mix who'd simply shoot all round her, given her equally savage past. 

At the recollection of his sister, his face fell and he no longer cared about the silent tactic. He knocked on her closed door and when he didn't get an answer, he began to fret. She was a light sleeper and she'd awaken at the slightest sound of a footstep creaking on the wooden floor. Something was wrong and the his gut only compressed tighter.

"Margo! Open up!" He banged impatiently on the door. "I heard glass shattering and I just need to know if you're okay."

On the countdown of three, he didn't wait to hear for a response because apart of him knew he wasn't going to get one. So with a run, he braced himself as he made an impact against the door and when it swung open, he dropped the bat onto the floor.

What he saw brought tears to his eyes. And in a hurry, he dropped to his knees and delicately moved the shards of glass away from Margo's body. She lay, lifeless in a way that made the tears burst out and roll down his cheek. His masculinity no longer mattered to him in the moment because the strongest woman he's ever known had resigned herself to her demons.

With the red liquor that stained the floor, it was hard to decipher between the alcohol and the blood. Her blonde hair was tatted and coated in crimson, as well as her skin that was pierced with the bottle's glass. The worst of all was her cold temperature. He then realised he heard the shattering in his sleep and he'd only woken up recently, so how long had she been like this for? Then, he observed her expression and he shakily sighed. She looked inconsolably sad but content with her position.

"Oh my God." He shook her body vigorously, much like she'd done to Tom, only this time, Matthew's voice made it obvious that he had everything to lose. "Wake up!"

With each shove, the only movement was the unclenching of her fingers and the blonde locks that fell around her shoulders. In an act of despair, he flung the closest object to him across the room and stood up off the ground, running his fingers through his hair and tugging on the ends. Then, with her phone, he quickly dialled the emergency helpline and demanded for an ambulance to save Margo.

***

Concussion, acute pneumonia and from the symptoms that had been given, perhaps mild post-traumatic stress disorder, amongst other mental illnesses but the one thing the nurses didn't disclose to the twenty two year old male; pregnancy. Margo, with everything she endured over such a short period of time, was not only suffering the side effects of being a fugitive but the consequences of an unprotected pregnancy; one she did not need at this very moment in time.