Alan could obviously not respond as his throat kept constricting and he was gasping for air.“Alright, Sir, let’s just go this way,” the waitress spoke. “Here, follow this way, Sir. We will help you and find out what happened.”The two workers gripped Alan’s shoulder with a supportive, their arms firm and steady as they helped him hobble to the direction that the waitress was showing them.Della’s face was creasing with concern as she struggled to make sense of the situation. Her voice was inquisitive as she asked questions. “What is happening with him? Was it the food he ate? Where are you taking him to?”The waitress and the other two male workers were hobbling him towards a private room in the restaurant.Della couldn't help but wonder what was going on but she stopped asking questions and followed them instead.The waitress then turned towards Della. “Why don't you just stay here? We just want to get him some help. It appears he has something stuck in his throat. We will just get
She then turned to Alan. “Oh, since you can't talk, take this paper and write. I want to know what exactly you have to say about this.”Alan had accessed the lady from head to toe. She didn't look like someone who could really do sustained harm to someone. She was just bitter about something she thought he did, she thought.Her physique was lean and sturdy and her limbs weary and muscular from the physical demands of her job. Her hair was pulled back in a utilitarian style and conjoined into a tight bun.She also had her shoes scuffed from constant wear and her apron was strained with the remnants of the day’s labor. Alan suspected that more than the weight of her interrogations, she was passing the aggression of her harsh lifestyle on him.He took the pen and paper that was offered to him and wrote while clutching his throat in pain and feeling his belly erupt in a serious commotion. [I am sorry about your brother but I don't know who you are talking about]The waitress yanked the p
He recalled that the moment was the best time for him to start hearing the waitress’ thoughts but there was nothing. He gritted his teeth in frustration. Why was it that it was as if the ability chose when it wanted to come? Why wouldn't it come any time he was in a problem? He wished that he knew what to do to make the ability or whatever it was to come at the time he wanted. The moment he was experiencing was the best time for him to read the waitress’ thoughts. He was sure that she would definitely think about where she kept the antidote and that would be very valuable information for him to extract.Della, meanwhile, was outside the exclusive room around the table where she and Alan were having their dinner.Her forehead creased with a curious frown as she looked around, her eyes searching the room for answers. Where had they taken Alan to? Was it poison that made him choke like that? Her face was a picture of perplexed confusion as she sought to make sense of what was happenin
Alan still had his breath hitched as he could barely put out a speech. He wished that he could at least speak up for himself but he couldn't. It must have been a terrible kind of poison that the waitress used, he thought.He wondered how long he truly had to remain in that condition. He turned his gaze to Della as if to give her a gesture of advice to take things easy on the waitress. The situation was very delicate but he knew that caution had to be taken.“Can you get my brother back from a coma? That’s all I want. Can you someone heal his pain and get him back to me in perfect health,” The waitress spoke with uncertain confidence, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to assert herself despite her fears.Della didn’t understand the whole picture but she knew that the waitress must have had a reason to think that Alan was responsible for the coma condition of her brother. She didn't need to enquire further because the waitress kept her eyes gazing intently, waiting for a sign o
Alan, whose face was turning red with the effort of the breathing had his throat relax with a sudden relief, the antidote coursing through his veins to counteract the poison.His face went pale as the pain eased and air started flowing through his lungs gradually and he drew a deep, shuddering breath.He released a shaky sigh, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing as the antidote restored his health.“Come on, it is time to prepare for Rose Billing’s burial and memorial,” Della reminded Alan immediately after he got back to his health.It was as if it was back to business immediately as they ignored the waitress to her misery.Alan, though knew that there had to be something going on among his seven miners for something as important as the coma of one of them to happen and him not being informed about it.He gritted his teeth in anger because the ground rules were that information about the mining should be kept from their family members but not from him. It appeared that the
He turned towards his Dad, Dexter Greyson who had noticed the anger that Alan was feeling but kept his face glued to the podium as if to avoid distraction.Alan whispered. “Dad, can you see this? Can you see what is going on? What even is the name of the MC? Isn't that Gilead or whatever they call him? How would he introduce Lawrence as Rose’s wife?”Dexter Greyson’s face was a mask of calmness as he placed a touch on Alan’s knee before leaning closer and whispering. “I understand what you are saying but remain calm for a while. Just watch and play along okay? Probably there was an error or something.”Alan whispered back angrily, his teeth bared. “What sort of mistake was that? In such an event where highly placed guests attend - is that where such a mistake is supposed to happen? This is absolute misrepresentation?”“Lawrence was never married to Rose because their papers were not approved at the registry. Even before she died, I discussed this with Rose and she expressed so much gr
He wasn't even speaking from his brain - he had to read from a note. That meant that for all he cared, whatever he was saying could have been written by a talented poet so that he could move the crowd and make them think that he was genuinely sorry about her death. He was the murderer of the deceased for heaven’s sake, why was no one seeing that?If he truly had so many beautiful things to say about Rose, why wouldn't he close up the note he had and speak from his brain? He was reading from a note and yet the guests were foolish enough to think that he was genuine.“—so you know, one of the beautiful memories that we had just clicked on my brain.”“We were on our honeymoon and the moon showed up. We stared at the moon for almost an hour while we laughed and joked with each other on the tropical beach.”“I looked at her and said to her - do you know that the moon is saddest when it is in its full shape? She looked at me, her face was very curious and she asked why it was so.”“I told h
Was he using Rose’s memorial to raise an impression among the people that it was some group of people who killed her when he very well knew that he put a bullet in her head? Was he trying to remove the suspicion from himself? That was even if there was a suspicion on him. He killed Rose right inside his own hotel suite and everyone who saw it were his closest employees. He would have made them swear an oath not to mention it to anyone and they wouldn't even dare to disclose such information.Alan’s contempt for Mr. Lawrence seethed beneath the surface, his face a mask of coldness as he listened in a devouring silence. His emotions were like a tightly coiled spring that could snap at any moment.Who exactly was he trying to lay the blame on them? Is that how he wanted to swindle the whole crowd?“We are all here crying today and with every tear that falls from our faces, we are soaked in more sadness but let us not remember that some people or perhaps someone was responsible for every