Page 81 of No Saint

I follow until they refuse to let me go any further. I use threats of violence, of bribery but they don’t let me through. The hospitals and medical centers were always the ones hardest to break.

So, I wait. I sit in those sterile halls of the city hospital, my clothes stiff and drying against my skin while machines beep and wail all around me, waiting for news.

Three hours pass, three hours of phone calls and messages, three hours of endless silence until finally – fucking finally – the same nurse who spoke with me first grips my shoulder. “Mr Saint?”

I stand abruptly, throwing off her touch, “Where is she?”

“Resting.”

“She’s okay?”

“She is,” she nods, “Needed stitches on her wound on her head and some attention on the water in her lungs but she’ll be okay.”

“What room number?” I demand.

“Sir, I have to be frank here,” the nurse says, “That wound was caused by a blunt force trauma, a boot or tool of some kind.” She pauses as if contemplating saying something else.

“Yes?” My teeth grind.

“I am in the right mind here to refuse you access.”

“You thinkIdid this?”

“Mr Saint, with all due respect –”

“Prendi il cazzo a modo mia”I growl at her, “Get the fuck out my way, before I remove you.”

“Mr Saint.”

“Move.”

Her face blanches at my tone.

“What room?”

“Seventy-three.”

She doesn’t stop me from storming past her and when I enter her room, I find only one nurse tending to the drip attached to her arm.

“Mr Saint!?”

“Is she okay?”

“Stable.”

“Then leave.”

“But –”

“Does she require treatment right now?”

“Well no, she is stable and set up.”

“Then leave.”

The nurse pales and scurries from the room while I take the seat on the right side of Amelia’s sleeping form. My hand gently rests atop of hers.

“I’m sorry,mondo mia.I failed.”

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