By A Rose

|CHAPTER TWELVE🌹|

After the flight, I left the airport and found myself in a cab to the Central Clinic in Los Angeles.

The first human to sight me was the little red-haired girl who initiated my return to the dreadful city. 

Tina McQueen. 

She gave me a tight hug and whispered in my ears, words I loved.

"I knew you'll come. I know you love Wes. I think he loves you too...Thanks for coming Ramona." She said.

The red-haired girl held my right hand and led me towards Wes' ward.

I saw him while he lay on a bed dressed in plain white sheets. The room he stayed in had an uncanny look. I hated it.

Everything was white, except the red in a little bag whose content flowed through a narrow tube into Wes' skin. He was asleep. He looked so peaceful.

Maybe I was wrong. I promised myself that I was just going to take a closer look at him and find my way back to Denmark. After all, I did tell him I did not need him in my life. He must have adjusted to that routine.

I let my luggage rest upon the white wall and I made a few steps towards the motionless Wes.

The upper part of his lips was scarred and a few parts of his skin seemed to be filled with colour. Red colour. 

The bandage on the back of his head had a few red prints and the blood that crawled into his body from the drip was so dark, it scared me.

I took a few more steps towards him, until my hands rested on his forehead. It was warm. He looked even more handsome when he was asleep. I brushed his dark coloured hair and let my fingers stroll across his scalp. 

I felt tears roll down my cheeks. How could I think he was the killer? It was Wes. 

I was saddened by my thoughts but I was glad he lived.

I kissed his forehead it felt warm. In that moment his eyelids moved slightly and there they were his lovely hazel eyes. 

Lord I loved those eyes; they were still filled with mystery. I was pissed at myself for believing Wes could be the killer.

I saw a smirk on his lips. He smiled at me after a second or so, but I was too ashamed to smile back at him. The words I told him the last time we spoke rang over and over within my mind.

I looked at the weak Wesley, who lay on the bed. I was the cause of his predicament. I knew that at a point the vengeance and unsure speculations a voice within me wanted him dead and I almost got what I wished for.

I was about to leave the white-walled room in search of a nurse as an excuse to leave Wes' sight. 

He pulled me back to his side; I slipped and fell on him.

 A part of my heart melted completely and I stared at his eyes. 

While the other part of my girly soul grieved due to his condition, I was truly grateful to my clumsiness at that time. 

I felt his short breaths sweep my blushed cheeks. He still had a little difficulty in breathing. Horrific thoughts began to chase themselves in my brain.

"What if he had died?" "What if he was already dead before I got here?" "What if he's about to say his last words?" "What if he takes his last breath right now?" 

In the midst of my thoughts, tears were let loose on my powdered face as they crawled out of my eyelids. I tried to stop them, but they kept gushing out until I began to whimper. 

Just then I noticed I was hurt on the inside, but exceedingly grateful that Wes was alive. 

Stark patted my back and swept my hair with his hands.