Depression's End, Young Love's Start

Chapter 11

The second the newscaster finished speaking, the big screen cut to Abigail's final video.

Brandon froze. His mind went totally blank, like it had shut down entirely.

But every word Abigail said cut through the silence, sharp and clear in his ears.

It felt like he'd stumbled into one of those cheesy, over-the-top dramas he'd acted in—trapped, with no way out.

He tried to grab his phone, but his hands were shaking so bad he could barely hold the tiny thing.

When he pulled up his call log, he saw it—one missed call from Abigail, an hour ago.

His phone had been with James back then.

He didn't have time to be angry about it. He dialed her number, his fingers trembling.

A cold, automated voice picked up. "The number you have reached is unavailable..."

James watched as all the color drained from Brandon's face in a single second. "Brandon, hey, calm down. The media always blows this stuff out of proportion."

Brandon felt like the air was squeezing in on him, tight enough to suffocate.

His eyes went red. He practically roared. "Shut up!"

He gasped for breath, like a trapped animal with nowhere to run.

Outside, traffic honked nonstop, loud and angry.

Brandon threw the van door open and took off running.

James called his media contacts to confirm the news and yelled for the bodyguards and assistants to chase after him.

But the second he unlocked his phone, he saw it—social media was blowing up. Everyone was talking about it.

He scanned the headlines quickly, then ran to cut Brandon off. "Central Hospital. Go, now."

By the time Brandon got to the hospital, swarms of reporters were already camped outside.

He didn't care. He barreled straight past them.

He was the biggest movie star in the industry. Even with a hat pulled low, the paparazzi knew exactly who he was.

The press lit up immediately.

Most of them felt genuine sorrow over Abigail's death, but for people in this business, clicks and views always came first.

More reporters and fans poured in by the minute. Security had the whole hospital locked down tight, no one getting in or out easily.

The first person Brandon saw was Isaac, broken and defeated.

The man was crying so hard he couldn't stop—tears pouring out like a broken dam.

He had his head in his hands, repeating the same line over and over. "I should've been with her. I should've stayed with her."

Brandon swayed on his feet. James rushed to steady him, but Brandon shoved him off.

He walked forward step by step and forced a rough, hoarse word out of his throat. "Where is she?"

Isaac looked up at him, eyes full of rage and grief. "Brandon? How dare you show up here?"

Brandon grabbed him by the collar, screaming. "I asked where she is."

Isaac flinched at the wild, red look in his eyes. Then all the fight went out of him. His voice broke with tears. "She's gone. Abigail's gone."

For a second, the whole world spun around Brandon.

He closed his eyes, then forced them open again. "Where is she? I need to see her."

Isaac shook his head, his voice raw with pain. "Abigail wouldn't want you to see her like this."

James's stomach turned at the thought of what a fall like that would leave behind. He stepped in. "Brandon, don't."

Brandon let go of Isaac's collar. He tried to walk off, like he could find her on his own.

He mumbled. "Abigail, I'm here. You said you'd wait for me..."

Brandon barely made it two steps before his legs gave out. He crashed down onto his knees.

He started coughing, hard and brutal.

Bright red blood poured from his nose and mouth, stark against the shiny hospital floor.

Everyone who saw it froze in shock.

Brandon's head spun.

He tried to push himself back up, but the next second, everything went black. He passed out cold.