The Third Word

Chapter 97

I fell down. My legs couldn't take it. The medics and cops started rushing around in front of my eyes, but I could not fix my eyes on anything. Even though I was looking at something, it all appeared blurry.

In the periphery of my vision, I could see something move in the air, as if motioning me towards itself. When I looked properly, it was Edwin, calling for me.

The medics had surrounded him, but he insisted on speaking to me before he was taken outside.

I scrambled somehow across the pool of blood and the dead body of Howard Miler. It was hard to not look at his body and feel like puking. I had never thought someone would die in front of me. But I was surprised I did not get an anxiety attack.

"Gwen." Blood seeped out of Edwin's mouth. His eyelids were heavy. He looked like he didn't try hard to stay awake. He looked so tired. He placed his hand on my lap as I sat beside him.

I softly slipped my hand into his palm and he held on tight. It seemed he was using all the strength left in his body to hold on tight, to not let go.

"I'm sorry." He said," And thanks. I might have...lived my best days...with you."

Don't... don't say something that will make me miss you. It's breaking my heart. But why?

"Aren't you going to...speak to me?" He asked and his signature smirk appeared on his pale face.

"Don't smirk." I said bitterly. Maybe, he understood it was my way of saying 'Don't die.'  He coughed, in the process of laughing at what I said.

"I did many bad things." He said and that's when it hit me. He was saying goodbye. I thought a jerk like him wouldn't die that easily. I thought he'd still have the will to live and he'll be in and out of the hospital in just ten days all fit and fine and trouble me in school but I'd not hate it.

"No..." I said softly.
"I need to make it up to you." He said.
"I said No!" I shouted and he just smiled.
"You did say you hated me. What's this now?" He glanced at my hand trembling in his.

I pity you. If anything, you didn't deserve to die...

"Here's my last...gift...to you." He pulled out his phone with great difficulty, and placed in on my palm. I noticed the voice recorder in his phone was turned on and had recorded everything.

I then figured why Edwin had started off by blaming his dad when he showed up with the gun. Edwin Miler...gave me the evidence to get justice for Ethan.

"You ask-- asked me to help my brother...I would-- I would do anything you wanted." Tears trickled down his cheeks.

I didn't even know what to say. I was exhausted emotionally. I hadn't ever experienced the amount of emotions I felt that day.

"His pulse is going down! Where's the stretcher?!" A medic shouted.

Edwin's chest heaved up and down in a quick motion.

"E-Edwin..."

"You must bring justice to Ethan...and me." He coughed," And please...don't hate me anymore..." with those words, his grip loosened and his lifeless arm slipped off my lap.

"Check the pulse!"
"Quick! Get the stretcher. He might still have a chance."
"He's not breathing..."
"He's dead."

I gripped the phone tightly in my hand and mustered up to get to my feet.

I walked out of the godown aimlessly, not knowing where to go, who to go to.