Light flickers painfully through the gap in my lashes as I try to open my eyes. Completely disorientated
and aware of noise and chaos around me, but it all seems so very far away. Strangely calm and
floating inside a weird, weightless bubble of blurred reality, with sounds muted and distant.
I reach out to touch my head, disembodied with a heavy limb, aching so badly all over. I feel like my
skull has been split wide open and throbs gnawingly, but a warm hand stops me mid-air. Bringing me to
a focus.
‘Hush now there, darlin’, just relax. Momma Jo got you. You take it easy young lady and let me check
your stats like a good girl. Don’t you move, ya’ hear. I won’t be just a tick.’ The caring honey laden
voice of a southern woman washes over me and stills my movements soothingly. I flinch when her
feathery touch awakens my arm, as though somehow it hadn’t been part of me until that second, and
my limb tingles as I drift in and out of this strange fuzzy haze. Disembodied in my odd foggy world.
I have no idea where I am or what is going on. I can’t see properly, a sleepy blurring mist of movement
as I try to focus and get the sensation that I am lying on a bed. I cannot be sure if that’s what is
happening, although I am aware I am laying out flat and it’s not uncomfortable. I can make out forms,
maybe people moving in front of me, and yet I have no clue what I am looking at. Everything
disconnected, so far away and heaviness holds me prisoner in my strange state.
The harsh blinding brightness clicks off with a loud noise beside my left ear, amplified and echoey. It
makes me flinch again and that voice comes back to me in a gentle wave once more.
‘Is that better honey? Lamp is a bit bright and you really should try and rest. It’s after two a.m.’
I can’t even make out the face hovering over me, despite its closeness, and the new shadows and
darkness from what I presume is her switching off the lights for me, just makes it harder to see what’s
going on. I am trying so hard to blink and open my eyes fully, they feel like they are glued shut and only
as little slits with no real ability to see much.
A larger form further back appears, standing out in a white top and dark bottoms, seeming bigger than
the blue haze of the woman nearer me and I can tell it’s male. It has an eerie large presence that draws
my consciousness towards it like a magnet. It’s as though my mind seeks refuge in whatever it is.
‘Is she aware of what’s going on?’ The voice seems so very familiar to me, husky, masculine and
warm, but I can’t keep my eyes open as I try to hone in on the shape. I can’t pinpoint why it’s so familiar
to me. Fatigue swimming in as it takes over and I try to hold onto the reality in which my brain is badly
connecting. I am so confused and trying hard to grasp any sort of understanding to how I got here.
‘She’s still in and out. Was a nasty, big old bump to her head, and with all that booze we had to flush
outta her system, she’s just struggling to make sense of things right now. She be alright. Just let her
sleep it off in the best place for her, Mr Carrero.’
My brain perks up at the name, brain connecting, clawing for recognition of the voice. It could be Mico,
or it could be Alexi, maybe it could be Gino for all I can fathom right now. I just don’t know. Nothing
makes sense, or even why they would be here with me in this crazy place. I am so out of whack,
floating on a weird cloud of strange and yet my body won’t respond. I am trying so hard to see; eyelids
heavier now and no longer under my control as they blank everything out. Fighting to keep them open
marginally.
‘Does she know I’m here?’ The voice is so far off and low it’s almost inaudible. Deep, sensual, male,
Carrero, but indistinguishable as to whether it’s Alexi or his cousin when it’s this far off and surrounded
by beeps, clips, whirs, and noise, making everything blend into one.
‘Well, she has one mighty concussion and a hangover from hell, so it’s hard to tell. Now hush up and
let the girl sleep. She will open them pretty blues again soon enough, and be wishing she hadn’t
downed that boat full of booze to do away with whatever this little thing was trying to drown.’ She
laughs merrily. A throaty and deep bellyache of a laugh but there is something kind about it and it’s the
last thing I hear as I fall back into weightless darkness at an alarming speed. Trying to cling on
desperately with a limbless body as I will myself not to fall down the rabbit’s hole. I struggle to stay in
my conscious state and grip onto flickers of noise and movement instead.
I don‘t want to fall into oblivion. I want to get up and figure out what the hell is going on. How I even got
here and what’s happened to me.
I have no idea at all. My memory is hazy and filled with odd images, flashes of dark, light, nonsense
and breaks in thoughts. I blink hard again as I try to get them open once more and realise, lifting my
hand to touch my face, that I have something over my nose and mouth. Feeling out the air tube under
my nostrils that’s blowing a gentle breeze across my clammy skin and the distraction is enough to bring
me back to the present once more.
I must be in a hospital, but I have no idea how I got here or even why. The last thing I can really pull
together in my mind is being drunk and trying to get into Alexi’s apartment. How drunk and stupid I was.
All I can visualise is waiting for him on his floor and drinking so much more booze than my body could
handle. No wonder I feel completely headless, maybe I am still wasted as hell.
I wonder if I passed out?
I feel wretched, try to sit up, straining to move with soft grunts, internally fighting to throw off the blanket
of darkness holding me down. Sighing and giving up with the heaviness of my body right now as
another wave of fatigue hits me hard and threatens to pull me under. Still not attached in any way and I
try and clear my throat to speak out as a last-ditch attempt to make them aware I am with them in the
room. I hate feeling like I am a floating entity and invisible somehow.
Lifting my hands to rub my eyes open and clear the cotton wool surrounding my brain clumsily as
heavy fingers twitch and slump on my cheek, lacking grace. Nothing is real or lucid and I could be high
on drugs for all I know. Nothing is coordinated.
‘Don’t try and get up, just sleep. Shhhhhh.’ It’s that voice again, gentle soothing, caring and I know it
can’t be Alexi. He would never sound this way when it came to me—the woman he loathes. The
woman he takes pride in breaking at every turn. Alexi would not piss on me if I were on fire.
It has to be Mico, he’s the only compassionate one in his cousin’s world and I relax and not fight him as
his hand cups one of mine. Bringing warmth to my limb that up until his touch felt numb and cold still. I
want to be able to just get with reality and look at him, ask him why I’m here, what’s going on, but
nothing works, and I am locked brutally inside my own weary head.
I can’t move or roll in any way, so weighted and achy and ready to fall out of orbit with every inhale. I
can’t seem to stay awake. Being dragged backwards over and over into the quiet, and I am losing the
energy to fight to stay here.
‘Cam, relax and rest. You’re going to be okay. I would never let anything happen to you.’ He soothes
me huskily, a gentle fanning on my cheek of his breath as he leans close to whisper to me. The soft
touch of alien heat as fingertips trail my temple and my face tenderly. The touch which ends all fight in
me, almost as though he has some powerful magic, and like slipping silently from the surface of the
water—I let go, fully submerging.
It’s all I hear as I succumb to the gentle waves lapping over my lifeless form and buries me in the still
silence of nothingness.
I wake up gasping for air, panic-stricken as my heart hammers through my chest and my body springs
alert in clammy awareness. I sit upright with speed and a force that yanks the tube from my face
harshly and makes me yelp as the drain in my arm tugs savagely in synchronised timing. Arm and nose
simultaneously stinging with a sharpness that makes me feel nauseous right from the depths of my
churning stomach. I am panting from the nightmare which ripped me out of slumber and completely
disorientated with my surroundings.
I seem to be in a small room, filled with moonlight and shadows, breathing hard and sweating as the
last fading dregs of my dream slip away, and my view comes into focus clearly, to calm me. It’s still dark
and I jump, insides somersaulting, when a tall looming figure moves from the window and turns
towards me sharply, casting a shadow that hits me with a huge déjà vu and I recoil in terror. My skin
goosebumps all over.
‘Alexi?’ It’s out without thought, body draining of blood as cold fear grips my spine, trembling voice and
tears prickle as he moves closer to me. Stupid reactions hit me before sense does and I try to make a
dash off the bed to get away from him. Clambering fitfully and awkwardly, so afraid, so traumatised by
the memories of my dream and what he is to me.
The monster who haunts me.
The monster who pushed me to hold a gun to my head and end it all.
I remember everything now. I know why I am here, and what Alexi made me do to myself in a bid to
end my pain.
I shot myself in the head!
Except? … I can’t have.
I’m still here. I am breathing.
Maybe I’m dead and this is my personal hell? It proves he was always the devil as he stands before me
now, on the other side. My tormentor for an eternity.
I feel completely sick as nausea consumes me and churns my body inside out with a weakening lurch.
‘Camilla calm down … it’s me … it’s Mico. Stop!’ The light flicks on over my head as he hits the lamp
and I’m dazzled by brightness, stopped in my tracks by him illuminating the room around us. Half
hanging off my bed in a hospital gown as he clings to my arm to stop me face palming the floor.
Desperately holding my writhing body as I stop bucking and fighting to run and realise it’s not the devil
himself after all.
I hold still with paused breath and frozen fear as my brain catches up and connects the dots. Seeing
him, taking in the room and face, seeing no one else here that would hurt me right now. I recoil my tight
and stiff limbs and start to relax a little, breathing heavily to self-calm the waves of anxiety-ridden panic,
body pulsating and clammy, as they start to slowly disperse.
I allow him to pull me back onto the bed carefully and cautiously, he’s being overly gentle but firm.
Eyeing him up like a deer caught in the headlights and still so coiled to flee.
My heart rate and lungs are pounding in unison as I drag in air in a bid to seem less hysterical.
‘I’m sorry.’ It comes out with a wave of tears, emotion hitting me hard. So exhausted suddenly, and
distraught in the blink of an eye. My body sags with both relief and sheer weakness. Not fit for anything,
let alone a fight or flight response as my heart still jackhammers in my chest. I grimace as he rights me,
aching body and all, and my head hurts like crazy, more so than it did. A banging drum of ache going
off like a pulse in the back of my skull.
‘Don’t be. You have had a rough few hours. How’s the head?’ He nods at my head and I automatically
lift my hand to touch the one spot that hurts worse, right at the centre back where I am shocked to find I
have a lump the size of an egg.
It’s a complete shock to me.
‘What the hell? How did I get a …’ I trail off as something else dawns on me, mind rambling over newly
found memories and it blurts out instead.
‘Why am I not dead?’
I held a gun to my head and pulled the trigger with every ounce of decisiveness in me. I didn’t hesitate
and put it right to my temple. I intended to end it all.
How does that translate to lying in a hospital with a banged head?
Mico pauses for a second and looks to the open door, his expression cagey for a moment, leaning in so
as not to be heard and lowers his voice.
‘Gun jammed, and the bullet stuck in the barrel. Alexi pushed you back to get the gun out of your hand
and knocked you for six into the concrete wall. We thought he had killed you.’
His hushed tone and serious frown tell me that this is not a joke or a dream. I am not floating in the
afterlife or hallucinating in a coma.
Everything just drains from me, the realisation of what I tried to do, how low I sunk. And yet …
‘Why did he try to stop me?’
It’s the burning question in the forefront of my mind. Despite everything I can remember, my foolish
heart still clings on to a flicker of something, and I inwardly scowl at my weakness. I hate myself for
even thinking about him at this moment.
Didn’t he want me gone?
Wasn’t he the one pushing and pushing and goading me to break? Who stood there and did nothing to
alter what I was doing? He had to know what I was planning, it was obvious.
He doesn’t deserve to dwell in my mind and thoughts. I need to put him where he belongs for all
eternity. In hell with his sadistic ways.
‘He’s a son of a bitch Camilla, but not a completely heartless one. Alexi wanted to end your connection;
not watch you die. He never wanted that.’ Mico looks away as he speaks, something in that face, but I
don’t know him well enough to translate it. He seems uneasy and unable to really look at me and I
shake it away, along with the visual of that cold bastard peering at me from inside my own head.
I blink around my surroundings instead, trying to free myself and focus on anything that is not Alexi
Carrero. Taking note of the sterile surroundings instead.
I guess the fact we seem to be in a regular hospital means they were told I knocked myself out and
never mentioned the gun incident. It would explain his apprehension at being heard. It’s not the private
one I was in last time, so I am guessing I was rushed to emergency with only the mention that I had
banged my head while plastered on cocktails of booze.
I know better than to mention the gun either. Last thing I need is being put on suicide watch and have a
psych trailing my recovery. I had that once before, when my injuries from Rick seemed self-inflicted. I
knew even then never to open my mouth and let the truth come out. It only muddies the waters and
lands you in shit.
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