Someone called my name.
I think it's Lloyd.
Quick footsteps grew louder, coming towards me.
Someone held my left hand.
And I wasn't conscious enough to open my eyes.
"What happened to her?" concerned Cindergreen asked somebody.
Amy's voice answered, "Francis did this to her. Brandon got her here."
I tried to open my eyes.
"Y/n, can you hear me?" Lloyd asked.
I opened my eyes, but things were a bit blurry. Probably from all the blood loss. But I could clearly see Lloyd's concerned face while he was kneeling beside the couch I was lying on and holding my hand in both of his.
The first thing I said was "What do you want?" That came out harsher than I intended.
He said after a silent second, "I'm sorry...For arguing with you back then without hearing your side of the story."
I didn't answer and just looked around. There weren't much people in the basement as before, and the door was open. There was light outside too.
Brandon was sitting on a chair, his shirt was unbuttoned and he was examining his bandaged wounds- Hold up, what wounds? Why did he have so many bandages-
"What did you do to Brandon?"
"Oh, your dear brother? I just locked him up...and may have given him some permanent scars in exchange for everything he knew about your mission."
Francis better be dead right now and cut to pieces and thrown in the sewers.
Jane was talking to Brandon as she was standing beside him.
Lloyd followed my stare and looked at them, he didn't look that well himself either. He looked too tired, and had a few little scars on the side of his face, the kind you'd get if you fell on your face.
Don't ask me how I know that, I'm the fangirl yeeter, it should be obvious from Amy's face.
His clothes were dusty, and his sleeves had cuts. His right ear was slightly bleeding...I think, my eye sight was still not as before.
The front tips of his hair were burned and turned black. He looked good even with that.
"Were you close to the explosion?" I asked.
He turned to look at me again.
Amy, Sam, and their mother were sitting on the ground. Amy was barefoot for some reason. I wonder where her high heels went.
"I caused the explosion, actually," Lloyd answered.
"For a person who was in such a dangerous situation, you don't look so bad."
"I can't say the same about you."
I gave him a look. "You're insulting me?"
"No, I...I'm sorry. I should've stayed with you before Francis got to you. I should've expected that he was working for my dad-"
"Did you kill him?"
He took a second then said, "Francis has been missing ever since Octoshar malfunctioned. Nobody knows where he is, not even the generals."
"Hold up, Octoshar malfunctioned? How?"
"I accidentally pressed something, and it threw me-"
"-Yeeted-" I corrected.
"-me into the air with my dad."
Okay, cool. What else should I say?
My gaze landed on Brandon, who was looking at me, "Why did you lie to me?"
"About what?"
"You know what I'm talking about. Francis told me."
He went silent.
Lloyd asked, confused, "What's going on?"
I was still looking at Brandon as he avoided eye contact. "You should've told me that you're my brother. Why did you lie?"
Amy looked more confused than a fish on land. "Hold up, you two are siblings?"
Brandon answered me, completely ignoring our cousin, "I couldn't. I knew that I'd have to hurt you eventually...and it would've hurt more if you knew that I'm your brother and still chose to give information to Francis."
"You didn't 'choose' to give him information. It wasn't your fault, you were forced to do it." I added, "Also, can someone bring me food? I'm starving."
~~~
Lloyd had to pick me up bridal style to get me out of the basement. My left arm, my face tattoo, and both my legs were injured, and I couldn't even stand up.
"You have two choices, then: either you crawl there, or I carry you bridal style in front of the whole school, and that won't be embarrassing at all." I told him before.
Oh, how the tables have turned.
"You remember when I came back from PE class and you threatened to pick me up bridal style?"
It's confirmed then that Lloyd is a mind reader.
I snorted. "Threatened is the perfect word choice for that."
He looked at me.
"What?"
"Nothing." He looked in front of him and continued walking until he set me down on an armchair.
He straightened his back and sighed. Am I really heavy?
I asked him, "What did you do to your father?"
"I dropped him off at prison."
"You say it like you dropped your kid at school."
He laughed a bit, but it died quicker than the main character's parents in most books I've read.
The damage in the city, I mean...everything in ashes except for a few one-story buildings who made it through the attack almost safely were beyond repair. Everything could only be rebuilt from scratch. And only god knows how much time that would take.
I whispered, looking away from him, "I'm sorry..."
He looked at me. "Did you say anything?"
"I said I'm sorry," I repeated, louder.
"Oh..." He covered his right ear -the one turned to my direction when I apologized for the first time-, then uncovered it and covered the other.
When he stopped doing that, he said, looking at his hand covered with blood from his right ear, "I think my right ear has gone deaf."
He was the closest to the explosion out of everybody. I wasn't surprised at all.
"How didn't you notice that it couldn't hear until now?" I asked. It's been hours since the explosion.
"I don't know, I was busy helping people. And then I saw you. For a second, I thought you were already dead."
I thought and recalled what happened. "I had a strange dream when I was unconscious."
He asked, "What is it?" He sat down on the ground near me because there were no other empty chairs around. He looked ready for a bedtime story.
"I was in the city when it wasn't ruined. But everyone had disappeared for a few seconds until I saw another version of me run past me to catch up to you and your friends." I said, "I understood that you and they knew who I was, but all seemed like friends, really close friends."
"And what after that?"
"Nothing important, the moment was ruined by your dad throwing a table from your apartment window for some reason."
He stared at me for a second then started laughing. "But why?" he asked, still laughing.
"I don't know. But he was looking at you from your window as we stood on the road hearing him scold you about how many green hoodies you have."
"I have six," he instantly answered.
"Really?" I was confused. "Only six?"
"Well...only six that I could wear at this time of year depending on the weather, I have four more but they're for winter."
How did the conversation lead to this? I'm supposed to be tortured and crying or dying, and yet I'm sitting down with Lloyd talking about how many hoodies he has. Weird.
It's like someone is writing about me and wanted us to have this conversation one way or another.
"Lloyd!" Zane yelled from across the street. "Come help us!"
Lloyd got up and brushed the dust off of his clothes. He told me, "I'll see you later. Try not to get even more hurt, okay?"
"You know I'd do the opposite."
"I'm sure you will." He walked away, "Bye!"
"Bye."
This time, I actually didn't get myself in anymore trouble.
And I'm very proud of myself for that.