Swivet

Anne

I was going to head up the stairs when I saw someone holding onto the stair's railing for dear life, while the rest of his limb quivered in their bent position. Vincent’s hand on the railing had almost slipped. With the way he was bent over, he would have fallen face flat and would have tumbled down the stairs if I hadn’t gotten to him in time.

He fell forward and into my open arms. I had directed my back to the railing of the stairs because I know I couldn’t hold all his weight, without sending both of us down the stairs. He fell on me and went limp with weakness.

“It’s not what it looked like, Anne. Believe me, I did nothing. She…she drugged me,” he slurred tiredly.

I felt raw pain surge throughout my entirety.

Here he was, barely grasping consciousness, but he still felt it needful to explain to me.

My eyes stung with angry tears. I wanted to run back down and fulfill my threats. It really hurt.

“Hey… hey… sweetie,” I whispered softly. “I believe you. But that’s not impo