Undying Love

A story about how love never dies... And the idiocy of men who don't realize what's in front of them until it is gone.

 

 

Chapter One

Krysta Hale's POV.

Mikhail Anderson and I were the perfect couple. Well, at least we were in the beginning. The phases of our love could have been compared to the blooming of a flower. Delicate in nature but growing ever so slowly and surely until it amazes you with its beauty.

Our relationship started out slow and tentative, very much like the budding stages of a flower, when we met at a party thrown by a mutual friend, Amelia. In truth, we only ended up together because of Amelia's match making prowess, so we had her to thank.

Just as a flower blooms after budding, so did our relationship. We met up a few times after the party and got to know each other pretty well. It wasn't long before we started going steady. We shared our deepest secrets and exposed our hidden scars. Our close friends were worried that we were taking things too fast and they didn't want to see either of us get hurt, but Mikhail and I didn't take their warnings to heart. We had had faith in our love for each other and that was all that had mattered to us.

I opened up to Mikhail about my dark past, something I hadn't done to anyone before, not even to my closest friends. I told him about the dark days growing up, when I was physically and mentally abused by my stepfather, and how my mother had never stepped in to put a stop to the abuse. She didn't even bother to stand up for her own daughter. In fact, half the time she would look on with a satisfied expression on her face, as I got hurt for things that weren't even my fault. For example, if my stepfather got reprimanded at work, he would take it out on me and I would have to face his wrath. It was the same case if he was drunk, which, unfortunately, was most of the time.

I told Mikhail about the time I got hurt so badly when I was sixteen, that I had to be admitted in the hospital. The incident was fresh in my mind as though it had only happened yesterday. I had just gotten home and was making my way up the stairs when I heard my stepfather call me. His speech was slurred as though he was drunk and when I entered the living room, sure enough, there he was with a bottle of whiskey in his hand and it was almost empty. He looked furious and he was clutching a piece of paper in his hand.

“I found this in your room. Your report card,” he said , his voice loud and booming. I looked down at the carpeted floor instead of meeting his eyes. “ You ranked 5th in the entire class! That's not acceptable and you know it!”, he continued. I winced. I had known in some part of my mind that this would be coming. His standards were too high that I couldn't maintain them. He expected me to get first in the entire class and if I didn't, he made sure I paid for it.

A sudden 'crash' made me look up. He had put the bottle down onto the table with so much force that it shattered . I should've seen that first sign and made a run for it because no matter how angry he got, he never destroyed anything. I suddenly felt a sharp sting across my left cheek and that was when I realised that he had slapped me.

His next blow made me crumple to the ground from the force of it, and I hit my head on the edge of the coffee table. I felt blood trickling down my face from my temple. I tried to get back up but he started to kick me in my ribs. I gasped in pain and begged him to stop but to no avail. I laid helplessly, tears of pain streaming down my face, and I eventually lost consciousness.

The next thing I remembered waking up at the hospital. The doctor told me that the bruises on my ribs would disappear in a few days but I had to be careful when I moved around because I had sustained a few cracked ribs. The only good news was that my stepfather was arrested because my neighbours had given a statement saying that they had heard loud noises and that it had not been the first time. He was arrested under the charges of abuse of a minor.

I lived in relative peace for the following two weeks until my mother had told me that she was going to pay bail for my stepfather. When she left the house, I quickly packed my bags and ran away from home to my aunt's house. Naturally, my aunt was surprised to see me at her doorstep and was clueless about my situation, she nevertheless welcomed me into her home with open arms.

Weeks had passed and my parents didn't even bother to look for me and I had hoped that it would stay that way. It did. I lived with my aunt until I turned eighteen and eventually got my own place and moved out. I had been living alone ever since.

 

Mikhail held me in his arms that cold, September night as I related my story to him in between sobs. He whispered soothing words into my ear, all the while stroking my hair and arms as though hoping his light, feathery touches could brush away the pain I felt. That night, he made a vow to me as he cupped my face in his hands and wiped away my tears with his thumbs. A vow to never hurt me in any way and I was comforted by his words. Little did we know that he would soon be breaking that vow.

 

 

Chapter Two

Krysta Hale's POV

Our sweet, untainted relationship was soon soured by the human nature equivalent of poison. Sin. In this case, it was lust.

I had taken a day off from work just so I could spend some time with Mikhail as we had not seen each other much for over a week due to our conflicting work schedules. I went over to his house and let myself in because the door had been unlocked. I couldn't find him in the kitchen or living room so I decided to have a look in his bedroom. I opened the door and was aghast by the scene that I saw before me. Mikhail was in bed. With my best friend, Cleo. To say they were surprised to see me would have been a major understatement. I turned and walked away from his bedroom, still in a little bit of a shock. I heard him run after me.

“Krysta, wait!”, he called out. I stopped and stood still. He put a hand on my shoulder and turned me around. He ran a hand through his hair and said, “ Can we talk about this for a second?” I did not know whether to be outraged or to sink to the ground and cry. I settled for the former.

“ Talk?!? Clearly there's nothing to talk about! Ever heard the phrase 'actions speak louder than words' ?!?”, I yelled at him.

“It wasn't what it looked like,” he said, trying to calm me down. I folded my hands and glared at him. If looks could kill then he would have already been dead.

“Oh really? So you're saying that my eyes deceived me? That I didn't just see you sleeping with Cleo?”, I said, my words laced with venom. Cleo stepped out of the bedroom when she heard her name and lingered in the hallway. Mikhail let out a loud sigh.

“Look, Krysta, we didn't mean to. It just happened. It was a lapse in judgement on both parts”.

“A lapse in judgement?! A lapse in judgement?! ''. I grabbed a fish-shaped lamp, since it was closest to me, and threw it at him. It hit him squarely in his chest. “ You cheated on me with my best friend and that's the best excuse you can come up with?! I hate you! I hate you with every fibre of my soul! ”.

He was temporarily at a loss for words. I sighed. The rage I felt was fading away quickly and leaving me empty.

“You know what, Mikhail? We are over,” I told him, although it hurt me to say it. I heard a sound almost like a squeak from Cleo and I narrowed my eyes at her. “That applies to you, too. I never want to see you again!”. I stormed out of Mikhail's house, slamming the door as hard as I could on my way out.

Conflicting thoughts filled my mind until I was nothing but a tangle of emotions. Betrayal, anger, sadness, confusion. None of it made any sense. Why would he do that to me? And especially after he'd promised not to hurt me in any way. Had everything he told me been nothing but lies just to get me?

 

Chapter Three

Krysta Hale's POV

Weeks passed and I didn't see either of them again until one day, I bumped into Mikhail at the bank. It was an awkward meeting and all the feelings I felt for him started to well up inside of me. I blushed and took a seat while I waited for my number to be called out. I looked at him and saw him do the same. I couldn't help but sneak glances at him when he was not looking. There weren't many people at the bank so I had a clear view of him.

All of a sudden, five people in black ski masks ran into the bank holding guns and ordered everyone to get on the ground. When everyone failed to comply, one of them fired shots into the ceiling. Everyone immediately dropped to the ground. I was terrified and didn't know what to do. I looked over to Mikhail and saw my expression mirrored on his face as he looked straight at me. I saw him subtly reaching for his phone and typing something. I just hoped he was calling the police.

Just then , one of the masked robbers went around with a sack and ordered everyone to put their hand phones and gadgets into it, while he waved his gun around threateningly. Mikhail immediately put his phone down and when the sack was brought near him, he meekly put it into the sack.

Two of the robbers made one of the bank tellers, a brown-haired middle-aged woman, take them to the vaults. The other two robbers, one of which was a woman judging by her figure, were left to keep an eye on us.

Suddenly, we heard the unmistakeable sound of police sirens. The three robbers who were with us became uneasy. The one who was collecting our phones went to the windows and pulled down the blinds.

“Which one of you called the cops?” he asked threateningly as he turned around to face us, narrowing his eyes. I barely stopped myself from glancing at Mikhail. Could he have called the police? Was that why he was fiddling with his phone?

No one answered him, though. No one dared. The other two robbers who went into the vaults came out, their sacks laden with crisp, new bank notes. “Let's get out of here. We've got what we came here for”, said one of them, the shortest of the two.

“We can't. The place is surrounded by cops”, said the female robber. They went to the windows and peeked in between the blinds. Just then, we heard a voice that sounded as though someone was speaking through a loudspeaker.

“This is the police. Release the hostages and give yourselves up! We have the place surrounded! I repeat. Release the hostages and give yourselves up! We have the place surrounded!”

I made use of that distraction and looked at Mikhail. I mouthed to him, “Did you call the police?”. He gave a curt nod signalling he did and gave me an encouraging smile. “Brace yourself”, he mouthed back. What was that supposed to mean, I wondered. Mikhail abruptly stood up and all the robbers turned their attention to him.

“Get back on the ground!”, said one of them, aiming his gun at Mikhail. Mikhail put his hands up in surrender but he didn't get down, instead he took a step forward.

“I said, get back down! Now!”, said the robber, louder this time.

“Look, you might as well give it up now and let us all go. The police have surrounded the place and they're bound to barge in sooner or later,” said Mikhail, in a placating voice.

“What are you doing?”, I hissed at him. “Don't be stupid and play 'hero'. Get down!”.

“You might want to listen to her,” said the robber, jerking his head towards me. “She knows what she's talking about”. Mikhail ignored us. I stood up and tugged on his arm to pull him down but he shrugged me off.

“I know what I'm doing,” he said. I got annoyed. Did he really? He made a sudden lunge at the robber, who got a nasty surprise. I saw him pull the trigger out of reflex and I immediately pushed Mikhail out of the way. I felt the bullet hit me and I fell to the ground as the impact of the bullet pushed me backward. The last thing I remembered was a sharp pain in my chest and Mikhail kneeling next to me, his face etched with worry and remorse.

 

Chapter Four

 

Mikhail Anderson's POV

I got pushed out of the way as the gun went off and the next thing I knew, Krysta was on the ground, bleeding. She had taken the bullet for me. It was my fault. I knelt on the ground beside her and tried to keep her conscious but she had already drifted off. The police barged in right after they heard the gunshot and arrested the robbers. The EMTs came and put Krysta on a stretcher and took her into the ambulance. One of the EMTs told me that I couldn't come with them in the ambulance but I could follow in my own car, so I did.

As we made our way to the hospital, I could only think about the fact that Krysta took a bullet and it was all my fault. I just hoped she wouldn't die. I still loved her and seeing her bleeding on the cold, hard floor had felt like someone had ripped my heart out. She wouldn't have gotten shot if I hadn't been so stupid. But why though, did she take the bullet for me? She hated me. She said so herself the day we broke up.

I winced. That was a painful memory. I had had everything, and then I lost her, all because of one stupid mistake. All because I couldn't control myself. Stupidity is what it was. Plain old stupidity. The same stupidity that got Krysta shot.

When we reached the hospital, I quickly ran to Krysta. She was awake now and the EMTs had temporarily bandaged her wound. They immediately rushed her to the ER. On our way, I asked her the one question that kept bothering me.

“ Krysta, why did you take the bullet for me when you obviously loathe me with every fibre of your being?”. She gave me a melancholic smile, and just as she was about to answer, her eyes clouded over. By then we'd already reached the ER and I wasn't allowed to follow. I stood outside and prayed that she would be alright.

Time passed and after what seemed like hours, the doctor finally came out of the ER. I looked to him hopefully but he just shook his head. “I'm sorry. We tried as hard as possible but in the end there was nothing we could do to save her,” he said, as he put a hand on my shoulder, trying to console me, and a sympathetic expression on his face. I sat there in shocked silence. He continued, “ The bullet had grazed her heart and she'd bled profusely on her way to the hospital. She lost too much blood and even with blood transfusion, her heart was too weak to pump her blood and it eventually gave out”.

Nothing the doctor said was processed in my head. All that was running through my mind was that Krysta was dead. I left the hospital and drove home, emotionless. The minute I walked in the front door, I broke into tears. The woman I had loved, and still did, was dead and it was all my fault. No one would ever replace her. Not in a million lifetimes.

 

 

 

Epilogue

Krysta Hale's POV

Five years have passed since my death Five years I have watched over Mikhail from heaven. Five years his thoughts have revolved around me. Five years he has pondered why I laid my life down for him. Five years and he still couldn't figure it out!

How could he be so clueless? How could he not know that I did it out of the love I felt for him? How could he not know that I never stopped loving him and that I had never hated him? Men!

He still recounts the story of our love to anyone he meets though. But what irks me most is that when he concludes his story, he always says, “And to this day, I still don't know why she did it”.