Chapter 2 Grip Of Fear

"Somebody help!!" I yelled, my voice shaking with fear. I grasped his head, my mind reeling with panic. I fumbled for my phone, dialing the house manager as my eyes fixed on Mr. Christopher's pale face. "Please come quickly!" I begged, my voice trembling.

I pressed my hand against Mr. Christopher's forehead, his skin unnervingly cold, as if all the warmth had been drained from him. His chest barely rose with each shallow breath, and I could see the rapid flicker of panic in his usually composed eyes. I couldn't breathe. The weight of the moment felt too heavy for my lungs to bear.

"Please... please, don't leave me." The words escaped my lips before I could stop them, though I wasn't sure if I was speaking to him or to myself. My fingers shook violently as I held the phone to my ear, waiting, praying for someone to answer. The line was silent, the seconds stretching endlessly between each ring. Every part of me screamed for help, but all I had was this awful, suffocating quiet.

The house was usually so still, but now it felt like the walls were closing in on me. The soft tick of the clock on the wall echoed like a countdown, reminding me of every second I had wasted. It seemed absurd that the most powerful man in this house, the man who commanded respect, was reduced to this fragile state. His strength, usually so unyielding, was nowhere to be found now.

I could see the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, the way his lips trembled slightly as if trying to form words, but nothing came. His usual confidence, the aura that surrounded him like a thick fog, was replaced with vulnerability. He wasn't the towering figure of authority anymore. He was just a man-scared and dying in front of me.

The phone clicked in my ear, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts.

"Joya?" The voice on the other end was gruff, but there was an edge of concern in it that made my heart skip a beat.

"It's Mr. Christopher... He's not-he's not breathing properly, and his face-it's so pale. I-I don't know what happened. Please, you have to come. Please!" I could barely get the words out fast enough. My throat felt thick, my pulse rushing in my ears. My hand slid from his forehead to his shoulder, gripping him as if that could hold him here, keep him from slipping away.

"I'm on my way, Anna. Don't leave him. Don't let him-" The line cut out abruptly, and my heart dropped into my stomach.

I looked back at Mr. Christopher, whose eyes were flickering, but his gaze seemed unfocused, like he was staring through me. His hand lay limp beside him, and I instinctively reached down, clutching it, squeezing as if that could anchor him to this world. The warmth of his skin was gone, replaced by an unsettling chill.

"Mr. Christopher... Please." I had to fight to steady my voice, my panic threatening to choke me. "Stay with me. You can't-" I bit my lip, swallowing hard against the surge of fear that threatened to overwhelm me.

I couldn't lose him. Not now. Not like this.

I wiped the sweat from my brow, trying to steady myself. My whole body trembled as I held onto him, the small movements of his chest almost imperceptible, but still there. He was still with me, still fighting. I couldn't afford to break. Not when he needed me. I had to keep going.

The room felt colder somehow, though I knew the heat was still on. The silence was suffocating, the minutes dragging on like hours. I should have done something sooner. I should have noticed the signs-something, anything that could have warned me this was coming. I hadn't.

"Please..." The word slipped out again, quieter this time, more desperate, but still pleading. I wasn't even sure what I was asking for anymore. A miracle? His recovery? His strength? I couldn't tell.

I tried to steady my breathing, my mind racing for anything else I could do. Should I try CPR? No, I didn't know how. I wasn't trained, and what if I made it worse? No, I couldn't risk it. All I could do was wait.

His eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, I thought he might speak, but the words never came. Instead, his breath seemed to catch, his body shuddering slightly as if he was struggling to take another one.

My grip tightened on his hand, my fingers pressing into his palm as I whispered his name, trying to anchor him, trying to remind him that he wasn't alone.

"Mr. Christopher, please. Please, don't do this. Don't leave me like this." The tears came before I could stop them, falling freely down my cheeks. I didn't care anymore. I couldn't hold it together. Not with him like this.

I leaned closer, pressing my forehead to his, the soft rhythm of his breathing the only thing grounding me. I could feel his warmth fading, slipping through my fingers like sand. His hand, once strong and commanding, now felt frail in mine. I wasn't ready for this. Not when we hadn't even... *finished* the things we started.

The room remained eerily still, and I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my chest. I willed him to speak, to move, to show any sign that he wasn't slipping away, but there was nothing. The seconds stretched on, each one a cruel reminder that we were trapped here, unable to escape this suffocating silence.

And then, the door creaked open.

I looked up sharply, my breath catching in my throat, it was the house manager, but he wasn't alone.