Sincerely..

Chapter 22 : live

I stood in awe, staring intently at the door they pushed her through. I ran my hands through my hair in frustration but it didn't fall back into my forehead as usual.

I furrowed my eyebrows as my hands slowly came into view.

Blood.

Asuna's blood.

All over my fingers.. my palms.

Up until now, everything was clouded. I was only snapped back out of my daze when Mr. Yuuki rested his hand on my shoulder.

I looked up at him then turned to everyone else standing behind me.

They all looked scared, like I was.

Seeing their faces... I couldn't hold it in anymore.

A pain built up in my chest, my head started to spin and before I knew it, I was crying.

This was supposed to be a happy moment in our marriage.

We were finally getting our baby.

I'm supposed to be by her side right now.

"Kazuto.. it's going to be oka-"

"No! Do not tell me that it's gonna be okay! I'm tired of hearing that she's fine and that's she's okay! From you, from her doctors, I just- she's not okay! This is her blood on my hands! Hers! How am I supposed to.. how do I.. what if she.." I gasped softly as I continued to sob silently.

I covered my mouth with the back of my hand, trying to hold back the flood of tears that came pouring out.

"Kazuto.." my mom placed her hand on my shoulder and caressed it gently, "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

I nodded slightly before she brushed my hair down with her hands then made her way to my car to get my bags.

I stood, sniffling awkwardly in the waiting room as I avoided eye contact with everyone. The cold air brushed against my body, raising goosebumps on my exposed skin but I couldn't find it in me to care about the discomfort my body was feeling as it begged for some sort of warmth.

My eyes stayed focused on the floor below me as familiar footsteps echoed, walking closer to me. I looked up at my mother who returned in about two minutes and handed me a shirt to change into. We made our way toward the bathrooms and got ugly stares when she took me into the women's room.

Sure, a mother walking in with her four year old son would be fine but a grown man following their mom into the bathroom is basically a joke waiting to be laughed at.

Mom simply ignored all the looks as she pulled me toward the sinks.

I don't even know where she got a towel from but she used to one wipe my face and hands. Call it motherly magic.

Warm water ran through the silver tap, dampening an edge of the towel she held in her hands.

After it got wet enough, she lifted it to my face and wiped the remnants of blood and sweat coating my skin. She then wet a bit more of the towel to run it through my hair where my fingers previously tainted.