C H A R A D E

I Pray

This chapter is dedicated toDeeyah1 for being there for this novel 😎

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I sat beside Brian on the hospital bench outside Chelsea's room, staring down at my hands, my mind still unable to place the issue.

Why?

Why would someone do such a thing? To the birthday girl. Not some random party goer. The birthday girl herself.

"I'm going to find them," Brian spoke up suddenly, puling me out of my thoughts.

I looked up from my hands and at him. He was staring straight ahead, eyes bloodshot and arms crossed.

It was the first thing he had said to me since the doctor's report on what had happened to Chelsea got to us thirty minutes ago (she was said to have be abused by two people).

He'd spent the last twenty minutes crying.

Now, Brian was what you'd call a badboy, before he met Chelsea, that is, and bad boys didn't cry. So, I was scared out of my wits when I saw him break down in tears at the news, right there in front of the doctor and the nurse who'd accompanied the doctor.

"Her parents have already contacted the police, Brian. We're going to find them," I told him.

Finally, he moved his gaze to me.

"Yeah, but I will find them first, and when I do, whatever comes next isn't gonna be my fault." There was a distinct finality to his tone.

"Do you know who did it?" I asked.

He shook his head no. "But I have a hunch, and I swear, if I'm correct . . . if I'm correct, Sabrina, then I don't know what I'm going to do, but one thing's for sure, I'd be put in jail when I'm done."

My eyes widened in realization.

"Brian," I began.

"There's no talking me out of it. I got three guys on my suspect list already, I just need to verify," he said and looked away from me.

"Brian, listen to me," I said, tentatively placing a palm on his forearm.

He looked down at my hand before looking up at me.

"Chelsea will be fine," I said very slowly, taking my hand off his arm. "My girl's a fighter, believe me."

"And what if she's never the same? What if when she recovers, she's different? Of course she'd be different. Look, it doesn't matter, really. My mind's already made up."

"Whatever you're thinking, Brian, don't do it," I tried again. "Okay, let's say you eventually do it, end up in jail and Chelsea wakes up, will you being in jail make things better? She'll need you by her side when she wakes up, not in jail."

His gaze remained on me for a few seconds before suddenly, his lips pulled down, his jaw quivered and his eyes filled up with tears.

"She'd told me not to go, Sabrina. I don't . . . it's all my fault. I . . . I shouldn't have left, if I had—"

His voice broke and like he'd done earlier, he placed his palms over his face and sobbed into them.

My eyes smarted and tears filled them up as quickly as they did his.

Willing myself not to let them spill, I put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"She's going to be okay, Brian, just . . . believe it. Everything's going to be okay."

~~~~~~

I had to go back to the lodge to pack up my and Chelsea's things as all third year students were to leave school on Tuesday.

Brian stayed back. He said he couldn't leave her alone in the hospital.

Chelsea's dad had travelled out of the country a week ago, so it was almost impossible for him to come down and see her, and her mom had been in a meeting when she got the news.

Currently, she was on her way to Abeokuta, having abandoned the meeting she'd been at.

Folding up my clothes, I tried not to think of the trauma Chelsea would go through when she eventually comes to.

Again why?

Were people just plain heartless? No conscience, no emotions whatsoever?

No thoughts of the aftermath, the aftereffects, the consequences . . . just plain senseless?

Earlier, I had been beyond sad at the thought of what happened to Chelsea, but now, a new emotion had surfaced.

I felt anger. Pure, raw anger.

How could people be so evil?!

When I was done stuffing my clothing into the big travelling bag I'd arrived at the school with at the start of the semester, I headed over to Chelsea's room.

I was hit by wave after wave of nostalgia as I stepped into it. Left for the unmade bed and papers scattered on her table, it was tidy.

Brian was right.

Will Chelsea be the same even after she recovered? Will she still be the vibrant, fun loving friend I was used to?

I sat down on her bed and stared down at the wall opposite me. Almost at once, tears blurred my vision.

And then I let it out. The newfound anger and hate, all pent up.

I screamed at nothing, made up infinite ways in which to kill them—Chelsea's attackers—and got an oddly satisfying sensation in my heart at the thought of how they'd die.

I cried and cursed and pulled my hair. And then finally, I knelt down in tears and prayed.

I prayed like I had never done before. Tears soaking my face and neck, my nose dripping, I prayed and begged for Chelsea to be okay.

I would do anything. Anything for her to be the same.

Finally, after close to thirty minutes on my knees in prayer, I stood up from the floor.

Wiping away my tears with my palms, I sat down on Chelsea's bed once again. Surprisingly, I didn't feel the hate and anger anymore.

I was still sad at what happened to Chelsea, but it wasn't as intense as it was earlier.

And in a way, I knew Chelsea would be okay. I knew everything would be okay.

Deep down, I felt it.

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Will Chelsea really be okay? *Evil laughter*, lol.

And poor Sabrina, she has no idea what's coming for her 😢

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Alright bye,

Thea😎