Chapter 3-Farewell
1461 Words
Rainie POV:
Dylan, bathed in the morning hues, looked strikingly refined. He was clad in freshly bought attire, his hair neatly cropped, a clear effort made just for me.
A sharp pang shot through my heart, rendering me almost unable to stand.
The throbbing ache in my body was momentarily forgotten as my mind fixated on one question: Is he hurting? Is he feeling as hurt as I am?
Words eluded me, my gaze locked onto his bloodshot eyes, reddened as if from crying. How long had he been sitting outside?
All night? How did he know I was here?
Dylan parted his lips, his gaze unwavering on me, taking in the bruised marks on my collarbone, a deep shade of violet now.
His voice caught in his throat, his words coming out broken, "Seems you got a better birthday gift."
I couldn't find my voice, a despairing sob escaping me.
Leaning against a marble pillar, Dylan stared deeply into my eyes.
His lips trembled, his gaze shifting away, lost in the morning sunrise.
After a moment, he balled his fist and slammed it forcefully against the pillar.
Startled, I grabbed his wrist, pleading, "Dylan, don't do this, please, don't..."
His knuckles split open, blood welling up, yet he appeared impervious to pain.
He mumbled, "I went to the bar. Everyone said you left with some rich guy... I called you, you didn't answer... The bouncer heard that guy say 'Maple Hotel.' I came here. Couldn't find you. Kept calling, no answer..."
Realization dawned—I hadn't heard my phone's vibrations.
Last night's agony must've made me miss them...
Dylan's voice grew softer, "Started a new job with the Black Blood Pack... Better pay. Thought you wouldn't need to sing at the bar... Wanted to tell you on your birthday, make you happy..."
My body swayed, breath nearly halted. Slowly, I reached out, clasping his hand, my voice choked, "Dylan, I'm sorry... Got drunk last night... That guy looked exactly like you, didn't recognize him..."
A wistful smile played on Dylan's lips, his eyes devoid of mirth.
Gently, he freed his hand from my grasp. "I'm not blaming you. I'm sorry I couldn't help when your dad was ill. You still had to sing at that place... And me..."
Glistening tears threatened to fall.
"Rainie, stop crying. You didn't do anything wrong, no need to make up reasons to deceive me."
"I didn't lie... Dylan, please believe me, let me explain..."
He wiped away my tears tenderly, his blood-stained fingers shimmering before my eyes, like a crimson blossom. His voice dropped, his touch icy, his eyes vacant, as though devoid of life.
"You must be tired. Go rest, Rainie... Hope your dad recovers soon, and you..." He looked up, choking back tears, after a long pause, he murmured, "Farewell."
Farewell.
The words struck me like a heavy blow, crushing my chest.
My legs gave way, and I knelt on the ground, tear trails betraying my pain.
Despite it being early May, I felt as if I were engulfed in the icy winds of December, trembling uncontrollably.
My thoughts turned hazy, tears streaming incessantly.
I was vaguely aware of someone lifting me, placing me in a car. I heard mention of "RED MOON university," then the car door closed, and I slumped into the back seat, consciousness fading.
Dylan stared blankly at the retreating car, taking a couple of steps forward before halting. He clenched his fists, then turned to glance at the Maple Hotel, illuminated by the sunlight like a colossal diamond.
Breathing heavily, he stared at it for a long while before turning away. Just as he did, however, a voice sounded from behind him.
"Excuse me, sir, hold on a moment." Dylan hesitated, a hand already resting on his shoulder.
He turned around, standing frozen in his tracks.
Before him stood a man dressed impeccably, exuding an extraordinary air. His face was a perfect copy of Dylan's.
Lying in a semi-conscious state in the back seat for what felt like an eternity, the tear streaks on my face had dried.
But my gaze lacked focus. My lips, as delicate as flower petals, were slightly parted, making me look like a lifeless porcelain doll.
The driver sped along, pulling up at the gates of RED MOON University. Impatiently, he urged, "Miss, you've arrived. Please."
Several calls from the driver finally roused me from my daze. I lifted my head, gazing at the ancient university gates.
A group of students walked out, basking in the sunlight, radiating joy. And me? Stained and tainted, did I deserve to enter such a pristine ivory tower?
The lingering scent of Alexander still clung to me, and a teardrop fell onto my dress with a faint splatter.
The driver's impatience grew. Shaking off my reverie, I choked out, "Driver, could you please take me to Greenwood Forest Road?"
Greenwood Forest Road was the street where the RED MOON PACK's bars were located.
In the early morning, the nighttime glamour had faded into silence, like an aging beauty, leaving an impression of transient splendor.
I walked slowly along the road, like a wandering spirit.
I reached the back entrance of the Blue Barn Bar and lightly knocked.
Soon, the bar's owner, Ben, opened the door. He exuded the scent of alcohol, his eyes red, yet he appeared entirely sober.
He gazed at me in silence, as if anticipating my arrival, not probing further. He simply whispered, "Tired? Take a rest."
My body was drained, and even my feeble resolve crumbled under his gentle gaze.
Darkness crept over my vision, and I collapsed. When I awoke, I found myself lying on a small bed.
The room carried a faint scent of sandalwood, and the bedsheets bore the crisp aroma of freshly laundered fabric, indicating they had been changed recently.
The room was modestly small, with minimal furnishings.
The sole decoration was a string of wind chimes hanging by the window.
I reached out slowly, eliciting a soft tinkling sound that brought me back to my senses. The door creaked open, and Ben walked in carrying a set of clothing.
"Go take a shower and put these on. They might be a bit warm, but they'll cover your wounds. I'll step outside for a bit."
After handling everything, I straightened my shirt collar to hide the bruised marks on my neck.
Cradling my arms, I walked out slowly, finding Ben seated on a wicker chair, engrossed in a magazine with its pages turned the wrong way.
It seemed he hadn't even noticed, appearing deeply absorbed. He spoke nonchalantly, "Had enough rest? You should head back to school, get yourself sorted out, and then come back to work. Your clothes are washed and ready; you can collect them next time."
I turned back, the red dress on the bedroom floor resembling a faded rose, like a pool of dried blood. I thought of the glimpse I had of the lavish bed before leaving, its beige sheets also bearing those vivid marks. I closed my eyes, a solitary tear rolling down my cheek.
"Just discard it."
I had adorned myself like a flower, hoping to find my mate guided by the Moon Goddess. But... everything had vanished.
Ben was fiddling with a deck of cards, the paper fluttering gracefully in his hands. Yet, I knew he played cards like this when his mood soured.
I whispered softly, head lowered, "I'm sorry, Ben. I won't be able to come and sing for a while."
He remained silent, just nodding in response.
A warmth spread through my heart.
Right now, what I needed most was to heal alone.
Comfort would only break me, and he had a knack for understanding people's emotions well.
Reaching the staircase, Ben suddenly spoke up, "Dylan's gone?"
I took a deep breath. "Yes."
"Don't be sad. He's not worth it."
My heart clenched, and I turned, tears shimmering in my eyes.
"Why do you say that? It's me who wronged him. I... I have no right to keep him around. What he did was right."
A wry smile tugged at the corner of Ben's mouth, though his eyes revealed no emotion. "Sometimes, it's better to know a little less.
The truth can be the most unbearable thing."
I stared at him, puzzled.
He sighed. "Don't ask. Just go back. Remember how much you still owe me, and come back to sing and pay off your debt. With one less mainstay, business might take a hit."
He watched my retreating figure until the soft sound of the door closing reached him. His composed exterior suddenly shifted.
The deck of cards he held was flung out, and an empty bottle of alcohol nearby shattered in response to the force.
- Writer
