𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎𝙎𝙀𝘿 on the 𝙎𝘼𝙈𝙀 𝙎𝙆𝙔 - 𝚔𝚎𝚒 𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚊

27 - The Pathfinder

Mrs. Hiou wants to counter back, but her husband refrains her. "Consider it done, Atty. Ashford."

"All right." Mom closes her briefcase and rises up from her seat. "Make sure to comply within the given date; you'll face the consequences, otherwise."

As she starts to walk, I follow her. There's a fluttering sensation inside of me. It's a sense of fulfillment and meaning. Mom is the reason why. She has scooped me out of the sea of hopelessness, and I can't be grateful enough.

I'm silently walking behind her, head angled down. I feel kinda flustered. It's a shame to say, but she's too good for me that I deserve to be her child. I'm an embarrassment.

"Lorraine."

Suddenly, she spoke, called by my name in her unusually soft voice.

"You're my daughter, stand with confidence."

It is as if all the self-pity I have in me dissolved in an instant. A simple sentence, means a lot.

Inhaling her encouragement, exhaling out confidence. Just like what she's said, I straighten my posture, drawing esteem on my expression, and face forward. I'm her daughter, then I should at least act like I am.

We reach the car she owns, and her personal driver is waiting outside. We climb inside and Mom tells the driver to go back home.

She uses the term home.

I haven't seen her for a while, but I know that something has changed to her. Something must have happened when I was gone, but I'm too fazed to ask.

The road to where we live shouldn't take long, but it feels like the time inside this car slows down. I'm just looking outside through the window, motionless, avoiding to have eye contact with my mother.

But I know to myself that o have to thank her. Okay, lemme remove all the awkwardness in me.

Three, two—

"Wah!" I incredulously utter, startled.

My body shudders when a hand surprisingly grabs my shoulder. I gaze at the person responsible for nearly having heart-attack. Why would she grab unannounced? She usually calls me first.

At first, I thought it's just some kind of a comforting gesture to ease the nervousness in me, but I see her flinching in pain. Her free hand is massaging her temples with her thumb and middle and ring fingers.

"M-Mom . . ?" I bemusingly call her and reach her shoulder to tug her a little. "Are you okay?"

And that's a dumb question to ask. Such an idiot.

There is seemed a growing pain in her head, and the way she makes a severely-aching expression, she could no longer handle it.

"S-Sorry . . ." she breathlessly says, muttering an incoherent slur in the process.

I press a hand on her cheek, her body temperature is shockingly low! Her skin is as pale as a pasty white colored marble, the shade around her eyes become darker, and her forehead was bathed with cold sweats . . . I know what's happening, but I'm too occupied seeing her like this.

And in a fast cue, Mom gives in to the pain.

"Mom!" I let out a loud cry, frenzied, and anxious. Her head falls on my catch, supporting her weight with all my remaining strength. Gazing at the driver, I plead at him. "Please . . . Please, let's take her to the hospital . . ."

I start tearing up. The beats in my heart slow down, wrecked seeing how my mother goes unconscious.

Please . . . Please, let her be all right.