Trashes of the Counts' Families || Trash of the Count's Family || OC

60

Tears flew as she ran.

She had quickly thrown her three hoops necklace over her head, immediately jumping out of the window.

She had broken one of her legs, but she didn't care. She kept running to the Temple. It hurt even now as the Vitality of the Heart tried to heal it.

It couldn't be true.

He— he couldn't— be—

She couldn't believe it.

She wouldn't believe it.

It wasn't possible.

Because if it was, then it was another person who left her.

And somehow, it was her fault.

It always ended up being her fault.

She refused to believe it.

She refused to believe there was another person who left because of her.

He was not dead. He would be alive and well when she opened the door to his room.

The Knights let her in almost immediately. She ignored the pitiful look Sir Isac gave her as she walked in, ignoring the pain in her leg.

She coughed once, blood coming onto her hand. She wiped her face and hand on her sleeve, wiping her tears from her face.

He wasn't dead.

There was no reason to cry.

She was about to run over to his room when she saw Bede. He caught sight of her immediately. He looked older, with lines of sorrow on his face. As if it stabbed her through the heart, she knew it wasn't a misunderstanding.

Priest Charlie was dead.

Her dad was dead.

The one who cared for when her own blood ignored her.

The one who showed her that blood relations weren't everything.

He was dead.

And she hadn't been there.

She cursed herself out until the Heavens. Cursing herself out for not going to see him when she had the chance. What did it matter if the members of that damned Organisation would have been watching her while she visited him? If she had gone, she might've been able to see him in his last moments. To say goodbye.

Why had she not gone?

She should have gone.

She would never be able to sit with him in the garden.

Bede had come closer. He knew how much Priest Charlie meant to her. He tried raising a hand to put on her shoulder, but she flinched away. Taking a step back. He stared at her with his hand still in the air. "Adara—."

"When did he die?"

She wasn't looking at him. She wasn't facing him. He couldn't even see her face clearly because of her messy hair.

He let his hand drop.

"About an hour ago," he responded honestly. "The doctor recommended he take a walk, so I opened the door to take him around the garden. He had been meaning to take a walk around for a while. He was dead when I came in."

The medicine must have failed, Adara thought. He was too late in his illness. "I want to see him."

Bede opened his mouth to protest, but Adara looked up at him. He saw how angry streaks of tears crossed down her face, her eyes red, and her hair untamed.