Be a good boy and go help the policeman, he softly said, as if he was persuading a child.
The reporters cheeks flushed with anger. Looking at the officers
he could lower his head and follow them faces, only dejectedly away.
The reporters down below felt like they had just watched a drama from a television series. They had hoped that this topic would birth some major news.
The emcee moved along to the next topic, and the press conference was back on track again.
Victor didnt have to stay for the entire press conference and there was already an ambulance waiting at the back door.
He stood up to leave and Rachel looked at him. Seeing that his cuff had been dyed red with blood, she unconsciously reached out to him, but Victor glanced at her and shook his head.
Dont. Im fine. He continued to walk as if nothing happened.
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Rachel withdrew her hand quietly.
Victor stepped down the stage steadily walked step by step. It was impossible to tell he was gravely hurt unless one looked closely.
Rachel followed him and found that his back was totally drenched. Was he alright? There was no way he was.
Rachel frowned and wondered why he had to act as if he wasnt in pain when his life was on the Line.
Sweat dripped over his brow. He was having trouble taking each step now, and his vision was starting to
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blur. He pulled himself together, aware that Rachel was following him. He didnt want to appear weak in front of her.
Most of all, he was terrified that if he passed out, she would vanish without looking back at him and disappear in this world once more.
Suddenly, a hand reached out and held his left arm.
He was surprised and turned to look at the person who was supporting him.
Rachel
Theres still some way to go before we can get to the ambulance, and I wont be able to drag you there if you faint now. Id rather you die in the ambulance than here, Rachel remarked coldly without looking at him.
If anything happens to you, I will be treated as a suspect.
Rachel
Rachel suddenly stopped and looked him in the eyes.
I dont want to have anything to do with you, alive or dead.
The words stabbed Victors heart like a knife.
Rachel, is your heart made of iron? Victors eyes clouded he smirked with self-mockery.