Page 139 of Wounded King
The monitor beside her keeps its steady rhythm, ticking out her heartbeats, anchoring me in the unbearable present.
I lose all track of time.
I think about how she must've sat atmybedside, watchingmesleep, clinging to every breath, wondering if I'd ever come back to her. She said she started falling for me while I was still unconscious.
But whatever she felt back then, it couldn't possibly match this. This storm inside me. Thiswreckage.
Because I'm not just falling for her.
I've already fallen.
And now I might have to learn how to live in a world where I never get to tell her that.
Not the way I should've.
Not the way she deserved.
"Don't leave me, Chirps," I whisper. "Don't you dare leave me now."
The door opens with an ominous squeak. I pass a light switch without giving it a glance. I don't know what pulls me down, but whatever it is, it's irresistibly calling me forward. I notice my feet are bare on the wooden stairs, which of course moan in protest with every step I make on my way down.
It's dark, but below, I can make out the shimmer of a light and noises like someone walking in a circle. That's what's pulling me forward one torturous step at a time. Down, down I go toward the light.
My hand brushes over the rough surface of a wooden railing, and despite the creaking underneath me, I feel like I'm floating and don't need to hold on to the banister.
"Violet," his voice greets me when my feet reach the cold concrete floor at the bottom of the stairs. His face is in the shadows, but I know it's Marcello.
I step forward, but he takes a step back.
A frown creases my brows as we keep moving like this, the area around us expanding infinitely.
"Marcello?" I call his name.
"Are you sure you want to be here with me? In the darkness?" He asks.
"But it's not dark," I say, just as more light floods the basement, illuminating the expansive, luxurious area. But I don't care for any of that, only the man who is still taking a step back for every one I take forward.
"It's dangerous," he warns, pointing at the now rock-covered ground. Sharp edges hit my bare feet, but I take a step forward and another, holding my hand out to Marcello. Without hesitation, he rushes forward. "Tesoro."
He pulls me into his arms and carries me over the treacherous ground. I lean my head against his chest.
He stops, his head hovering over mine like he's about to kiss me.
"I love you," he says, the words I've been longing to hear for so long. Tears fill my eyes because now I know this is just a dream.
A wonderful, achingly beautiful dream. One I never want to wake up from.
His lips open, either to finally kiss me or to say something else, but instead of words, a strange sound emanates from him. A familiar sound.Beep-Beep-Beep. A sound I've heard so many times, for so many years, it's become like Muzak in an elevator, or music at the grocery store. The sound continues,Beep-Beep-Beep, andgains in intensity. From far, far away, I hear Marcello's voice.
"Tesoro. I love you."
I feel a tear run down my cheek and know I'm waking up. But I don't want to. I want to stay down there with him, where he saysI love you. I feel his hand holding mine, the slight brush of his knuckles as he wipes the tears away.
"Don't cry, tesoro, you're breaking my heart." His voice is hoarse and raw, like he's been screaming for hours.
My head hurts, it's a drumming pain, and only one eye wants to open as I blink. My lips feel chapped and my throat raw. But it's the pain that brings it all back. The flight. Disembarking the jet. The helicopter and the shots. Shots! I was shot.
"Marcello!" With a hoarse scream, I sit up so abruptly, dizziness overcomes me. Bile rises in my throat, and I sink back into the bed.
