Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
The doctors came in to help with the feeding tube, which was an experience I never wanted to repeat. They told me what had happened, asked if I had any memory, and the truth was, I didn’t.
I’d been shot once in the chest, but it had missed all major organs and blood vessels. I’d been lucky. The second shot had been to my stomach. They didn’t say anything about the stomach shot.
The morphine, or whatever drugs they had me on, helped to numb the pain. I felt … okay. Like I’d been run over by a truck, repeatedly, but I was alive. I was breathing.
Every now and then, I’d see flashes of Andrei, his arms wrapped around me, yelling. None of it made sense.
Rubbing at my temple, I realized that the doctors left the room, and I wasn’t sure exactly what had happened or been said. Focusing on words seemed so hard right now.
Ivan and Andrei remained in the room.
“Am I in trouble?” I asked. I licked my dry lips and Andrei reached for the water, holding the straw toward me.
My stomach hadn’t actually been hit, just my abdomen, but the doctor hadn’t said anything more, other than I was on the mend.
“Why would you be in trouble?” Andrei asked.
“I got shot.”
“And you naturally assume you did something wrong?”
I look from Andrei and Ivan. They’re Bratva. They make people pay for their wrongdoings.
“I … I…”
“Tell me exactly what you remember?” Andrei asked, putting the cup down again.
I frowned. “I remember … last night? How long have I been in the hospital?”
“Two days,” Ivan said.
“Oh, then I guess I remember the night before I got shot. I think. Everything else is fuzzy.” I felt the start of a headache.
Andrei took my hand and sat beside me on the bed. “Then don’t overthink it. There’s no need to.”
“I got shot. Twice.”
“And you’re in the hospital.”
Ivan put a hand on my other hand. “And you’re going to make a full recovery. You will be fine. I will leave you two alone for now. I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow. See me out.”
Andrei gave my hand a squeeze and I watched as my husband walked his boss out. I was trying to understand what was going on. They know something I don’t.
Glancing around the room, I try to find clues. Anything that would tell me what happened the other day. Why did I get shot? Where was I? None of this made sense to me.
“Stop overthinking everything,” Andrei said, returning to the room.
Ivan was nowhere to be seen.
“You try being in a hospital bed with two wounds that you don’t have any recollection of getting. Then you tell me not to be confused.”
“I’m going to take care of you, Adelaide. You’re not going to get…”
“Shot anymore?”
He nods.
Sitting back, I release a sigh. “How are you?” I asked.
His brows go up. “You’re the one in the hospital but you’re asking me how I am.”
I can’t help but smile at that. The pain medication is making me feel lightheaded.
“Can I tell you a secret?” I asked.
“You can tell me anything.”
I doubted that. “I hate hospitals. I always have.”
“Seriously?”
I nod. “People die here.”
“And people get saved here.”
“I know about the saving, and don’t get me wrong, I have a whole lot of respect for doctors and nurses and all that. Trust me, I do, but I just … I don’t know. I think they scare me.” I hate feeling alone.
The visiting times always bothered me.
“Have you called my parents?” I asked.
Andrei shook his head. “No.”
“Oh.”
“Do you want me to?”
“No, there’s no point, right?”
“Adelaide, if you want them here, just say the word.”
Did I want them? Would I want my mother here in this room, bored out of her mind, blaming me for yet more wrinkles? She wouldn’t be loving or caring. I was a burden to her. A child she ended up having but didn’t want.
I ruined her figure.
“No, I don’t want them.”
My dad hadn’t called me in the past six months. The only person to have any contact with me was Bethany and that was to be spiteful.
Tears filled my eyes, and I quickly averted my gaze, not wanting him to see.
“Don’t cry.”
Too late. They fell down my cheeks and I hated them. I try to rub them away, but clearly my emotions from getting shot are all over the place.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be sorry.”
Andrei takes my hand and presses a kiss to the knuckles. “Stop. You can cry.”
“I don’t even know why I’m crying.”
“It doesn’t matter why you’re crying. Sometimes you just need to cry.”
This makes me snort, but the pain in my stomach is a little too great, so it sounds like more of a pain grunt.
“Have you ever cried?” I asked.
“When I was little, I cried a lot.”
“I highly doubt that.”