บท 22: I Can’t be a Murderer

Nia's POV

With my heart pounding, I stared at Matthew's motionless body. Panic surged within me as worry took over.I knelt beside him, turning his body to check for any visible injuries as I desperately opened his eyes, hoping for a reaction. He remained motionless.

Is he still alive? My mind raced with worst-case scenarios. What if he had a concussion? What if he suffered from amnesia? My actions spiraled into a nightmare of guilt and fear.

I shook him gently, urging him to wake up. The seconds felt like an eternity, his stillness intensifying the panic within me. The worst-case scenario haunted my thoughts: What if he's dead?

I can't be a murderer. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.A million thoughts raced through my mind. What do I do now? Should I call for help? My trembling hands betrayed my fear, and tears streamed down my cheeks.

The room seemed to tighten around me, and my escalating fear set my body ablaze. Without a phone to dial 911, panic surged, only to be replaced by a glimmer of hope – Matthew might have his phone with him. My hands, shaking like leaves in a storm,I reached into his pocket, retrieving his phone.

Unlocking it, a sudden realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. What if I called 911, and he was pronounced dead? The mere thought of facing imprisonment chilled me to the bone.

Why did these strokes of misfortune always land on me? The weight of my actions bore down on me, pressing heavily on my conscience. Desperate for guidance, I turned to Google, frantically typing "can you kill someone with a frying pan?" The horrifying answer sent a chill down my spine and made my stomach churn – it could indeed lead to death. My face was soaked with tears, blurring my vision. "Don't go, please. Stay with me," I pleaded with him.

Overwhelmed and with my head resting on Matthew's chest, I contemplated the decision to call 911, grappling with the consequences and the heavy burden of guilt that threatened to suffocate me.

Tears welled up again as the gravity of the situation sank in, my heart still throbbing. Then, a gentle stroke on my head caught my attention. I looked up to find Matthew smirking, his touch a mix of comfort and confusion. "Hey, bunny," his familiar voice rang out, and and my heart fluttered with memories.

Raising my head, he was about to wipe my tears when I yelled at him. "Don't touch me,why are you here?." My voice trembled, caught between anger and fear. He burst into laughter as the tension in the room escalating. "Just minutes ago, you were begging me to stay with you, and now you're trying to act like you don't want me here."

"I'm not trying to play games,Bunny. I genuinely care about you," Matthew insisted, his smirk fading into sincerity.

I stood up from the floor, attempting to gather my composure, and walked towards the window. His cold hands grabbed my waist from behind, sending shivers down my spine. His hot breath on my neck heightened the intensity of the moment, making my pulse race. Turning to face him, I stared into his beautiful brown eyes. "Stop, don't touch me," I pulled away, but he still moved closer, his tall, lanky figure soo hard to resist. He was drop-dead gorgeous with his porcelain skin, blonde hair, and brown eyes.

"I can't deny the feelings that still exist between us, Nia," Matthew confessed, his words hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. "But I'm not here to complicate your life. I just want to ensure you're safe."

The silence lingered, the weight of his words sinking in. "You are just a liar, a cheat, and a manipulator?" I retorted, my voice laced with the pain of betrayal.

"I messed up, Nia. I know that. But I never stopped caring about you," Matthew admitted, his eyes reflecting remorse. "What can I do for you to forgive me?" he pleaded, holding my hands.

"Fine, then go back to LA. I'll try to forgive you. SanCasas isn't the right place for you; it's too dangerous," I pleaded, my words laced with frustration and concern.

"I'm not going to leave you. What about us, Nia? Can we ever go back to how we were?" Matthew sighed, his gaze penetrating mine as he held onto my hands, searching for a connection that seemed to slip away.

"It's already too late, Matthew. You broke me first. I loved you at your worst, but you left me in the dark. Why was I not enough? You only succeeded in making me feel really sad and insecure.So don't tell me you're sorry,Feel sorry for yourself .Please, go back to her," I said, the pain evident in my shaky voice, as I took my hands off him, mustering the strength to walk away.

He dropped his head in disappointment, and in that moment, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for him. It was clear he still loved me, but the hurt he inflicted lingered. Matthew was my first love, and it was also obvious I hadn't completely moved on. But where did Juan fit into this story? I liked Juan; his presence made me feel safe, and I could be myself around him. With Matthew, it felt like I was someone else, always trying to be perfect for him.

As I kept thinking about both of them, conflicting emotions surged within me. If I really have feelings for both of them? One of them had to go, or maybe both, as I couldn't navigate an entanglement. There were more pressing matters at hand, like finding the journal and rescuing Sofia.

"Please go back to LA, Matt," I said, my hand gripping the door handle, a forced smile on my face. "You'll be fine, I promise. I'll take my leave now," I added, standing hesitantly at the entrance of the kitchen door.

"Oh, my head hurts," he groaned, and my concern pulled me back to him. He started complaining of blurry vision, his discomfort evident.

We ordered a ride straight to SanCasas General Hospital.Matt clutched his head and rested on my shoulder as I tried to comfort him amid the chaotic thoughts swirling in my mind.

"We're almost there, Matt. Just hang in there," I whispered, my voice a mix of concern and reassurance.

At the hospital, the nurse delivered the diagnosis with a solemn expression. "He has a mild concussion, which led to temporary amnesia. It might take some time for his memory to return naturally. Please, don't press him too hard; it's crucial for his recovery."

The nurse detailed the prescribed medications and provided a list of dos and don'ts. "Make sure he gets enough rest, avoid bright lights, and minimize screen time. Stress can worsen his condition."Her words hung in the air, adding to the weight on my shoulders.

It was just a little bang with a frying pan," I explained to the nurse, "Ma'am, are you his girlfriend? You need to take good care of him until he's okay." I nodded, absorbing the responsibility that lay ahead.

As we left the hospital, the clock had ticked past ten, and the looming worry about Juan's reaction weighed on me.

In the dimly lit night, a familiar figure emerged, standing with an air of authority in front of his sleek car. His arms folded, legs crossed, and his eyes, oh, those dark, cold, and piercing eyes, locked onto mine. A shiver ran down my spine as the weight of his gaze engulfed me, leaving me breathless.

In silent anticipation, he approached, like a shadow in the night. Bending lower towards me, he raised my chin with a touch that felt both commanding and intimate forcing me to meet his intense gaze. His voice, a low whisper that sent shivers, pierced the quiet air, "Where have you been, mi amor?"