Shattered by the Alpha Stronger Than Ever novel Chapter 55

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Finally, she relented, but not before forcing an energy bar into my hands and down my throat, a small act of care in the midst of chaos. As I watched her leave, the strong mask of being a supporting brother slips but I stood firm, a sentinel of hope in the hospital’s sterile corridors, waiting for news of my dad’s recovery, and willing him to come back to us.

They shifted him to the intensive care unit, and I was ushered to the waiting room, where I was supposed to rest. But rest was an impossible notion, as I felt like my insides had been put through a wringer, bruised and battered, threatening to spill out of my body at

any moment.

My eyelids grew heavy, threatening to submit to the exhaustion that had been building for hours, but every time I drifted close to sleep, a searing headache and the anguish in my heart jerked me back awake.

The pain was a relentless companion, a constant reminder of the turmoil that ravaged my mind and body. My thoughts swirled in a vicious cycle of worry, guilt, and fear, refusing to let me find solace in rest. Even the silence of the waiting room seemed to mock me. Sleep, it seemed, was a luxury I couldn’t afford, not yet, not until I knew my dad was safe.

If only I hadn’t followed Rose that night, Karissa would be here with me now. And maybe, just maybe, my dad wouldn’t be lying in the ICU, fighting for his life. I felt like I’d single–handedly destroyed the trust of those I loved, shattering the bonds that once held us Together

I must have dozed off, exhausted by the emotional turmoil, because the next thing I knew, my sister was shaking me violently, her eyes wild with terror. She was crying hysterically, her body convulsing with each sob.

“Dad. Keith… Dad… he… he’s… no… no more,” she stammered, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a heartbreaking jumble. The phrase ‘no more‘ hung in the air the finality piercing deep into my soul

I felt like I’d been encased in a layer of ice, my emotions frozen in a state of suspended animation. The news of my dad’s passing seemed to hover around me, refusing to penetrate the numbness that had settled over me.

1 was a spectator in my own life, watching as my sister’s tears and wails of grief washed over me, yet unable to react. I was dragged along, a passive participant in the chaos that followed, my mind struggling to catch up with the devastating reality.

Nothing made sense until I stood beside my dad’s lifeless body, his eyes closed, his chest still, and the machines that had once held such promise now silent and still, that the numbness began to wear off.

My sister’s anguished sobs and desperate embrace of his limp form finally pierced the fog that had shrouded me. I felt the frosty grip of terror creeping up my spine, binding me in a paralysis of grief. I wanted to speak, to scream, to rage against the universe, but my voice was trapped, frozen in my throat.

I trudged towards his lifeless body, my legs heavy with grief, calling out to him as if he might still respond..

“Dad,” I croaked, my voice cracking with emotion, wishing against hope that this was just one of my childhood misunderstandings, or a nightmare from which he’d wake up if I only called him loudly enough.

I reached out, holding his cold, stiff hands in mine, clinging to them as if I could will some life back into him. I felt like a child again, seeking comfort from the one person who had always been there for me, but this time, he was silent, unresponsive, and gone. I held his hands tighter, as if I could somehow keep him with me, keep him from slipping away, but it was too late, he was already gone, leaving me alone with my tears, thy regrets, and my wounded heart.

“““Keith,” my sister’s voice pierced the fog, shattering the relentless loop of memories that had tormented me for hours. The same scenes, the same words, the same feelings of guilt and grief had been replaying in my mind like a cruel mantra, refusing to let me

escape.

But my sister’s soft whisper yanked me back to the present, forcing me to confront the harsh reality that I’d been trying to outrun. I turned to her, my eyes focusing on her tear–stained face, and the ruthless procedure of the last responsibility as a son,

The massive weight of the coffin on my shoulder was almost inconsequential compared to the crushing burden that had taken up residence in my heart. As people who loved my dad shared their words of honor and respect, I felt the ache within me grow. And then, the moment of truth – the casket, adorned with a single white rose, was lowered into the grave, carrying my dad’s peaceful form, dressed in his black suit, down into the darkness.

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I felt my eyes sting, the tears welling up, but somehow, they refused to fall. It was as if my grief had become a dam, overflowing with emotion, yet unable to release. I stood there, frozen, as the earth claimed my dad, and I was left to face the world with his absence.

As I wrapped my arms around my weeping sister, holding her close as she cried silently on my shoulder, my gaze drifted upward, and my eyes met those of someone I had expected to sec. Karissa stood there, her eyes red–rimmed, her face puffy from crying, her body shaking with sobs.

A few of her family members flanked her, offering the comfort and support that I felt should have been mine to give. A whirlpool of emotions swirled inside me – grief, guilt, and a hint of longing

Chapter42

As our eyes locked, I saw only sorrow and sympathy in hers, and my pain subsided, replaced by a deep a very small flicker of comfort, we were both suffering, both lost, and both searching for solace.

As the crowd dispersed, and the last of the mourners departed, I remained, frozen in place. My cousin had taken my sister home, concerned about her dehydration, but I stayed, unable to tear myself away. I stood there, alone, staring at the fresh, muddy grave, my eyes fixed on the spot where my dad’s casket had been lowered into the earth. The reality of his passing still felt like a cruel joke, a nightmare from which I couldn’t awaken.

As I exited the graveyard, I was met with a sight that made my heart skip a beat. Karissa was standing there, her eyes locked on mine, filled with a deep empathy that seemed to understand the depths of my pain.

My steps slowed, as if an invisible force was pulling me back, choking the words from my throat. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of emotions, unable to find a lifeline to cling to. Karissa’s presence was both a comfort and a tormenting reminder of what could have. been, of what we had lost.

She looked like she was just as miserable, perhaps even more so, because she had been the one betrayed, her world shattered by my actions.

“I am so sorry, Keith. Your dad was an amazing man!” she said, her voice laced with regret.

Those, words felt like condolences offered to a stranger or a distant friend, rather than someone who had shared so much history and heartache with her. I felt a pang of disappointment, a sense of disconnection, as if the depth of our relationship had been reduced to a mere platitude. The words, though well–intentioned, felt like a band–aid on a bullet wound, a feeble attempt to staunch the flow of grief.

The urge to reach out and hug her was almost overwhelming, a primal longing to reconnect and find solace in each other’s embrace. But I hesitated, my arms frozen in uncertainty, because I knew I had forfeited that right.

Her maintaining a distance from me, made me doubt if she would ever welcome my touch again. I feared that my embrace would be met with resistance, or worse, indifference.

The thought of being rejected by her, of having my comfort rebuffed, was a prospect too painful to bear. So I stood there, my heart heavy with regret, my arms aching to hold her, but my soul knowing I had lost the privilege of her touch.

My voice was trapped, suffocated by the weight of my emotions. I couldn’t get any words out of my mouth, as if speaking would shatter me into a million pleces, leaving me breathless and lifeless.

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