Page 17 of The Sins of Noelle

Her left hand is bleeding profusely, and I have no way of knowing how deeply she cut herself. So I act quickly, taking my shirt off and tearing a strip of material to tie to her hand until I take her to the emergency room.

"You're not divorcing me," she slowly lifts her head to look at me. There's no trace of pain on her face, no fear—nothing. There's only a slight smirk that tips at the corner of her mouth. One that tells me she's never going to let me go.

Dead, or alive, she's never going to let me go.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Noelle?" I demand sharply as I tighten the material over her wrist. It's in vain, though, as blood quickly seeps through, telling me that she made a very deep cut.

"You're not divorcing me, Raf," she repeats, coming closer to me.

Going on the tips of her toes, she brings her mouth close to my ear.

"You wouldn't want to have my death on your conscience, now, would you?" she whispers.

"You'd do that? Kill yourself?" I force the words out, my entire body tensing at the mere thought. Fear and anger are mingling inside of me as I'd like nothing better than to take her over my knee for the stunt she pulled while also peppering her with kisses so she'll never try it again.

Damn you, Noelle. You're a wicked, wicked girl.

"Not before I killed you," she answers readily. "That way we'll always be together, Blue. In life, or in death," she smirks as she draws back.

I shake my head at her, an amused smile playing on my lips.

"You're a wicked girl, aren't you, Noelle?"

"For you? I'll be anything you want me to be," she replies, her eyes on mine.

The 911 sirens echo in the distance, but I can't take my eyes away from her.

Who are you?

Yet it's not a question of who she is anymore, as it is of who we are together.

The ambulance takes us to the nearest hospital where a doctor tends to her, stitching her wrist and telling me I was lucky I acted fast because she'd cut so deep into her flesh she'd almost torn her tendons.

"She could have lost her range of mobility," he takes me aside to tell me. "If she'd cut just a little bit deeper, she could have damaged her tendons."

"She's a pianist," I add grimly.

"She would have never played again."

The implication is clear.

Noelle cares nothing about her playing ability if she doesn't have me.

"As you know, since this was a self-harm injury, we have a protocol to follow."

I nod.

"She… She has a history."

"The psychiatrist on call will come to pay her a visit."

After the doctor leaves, I give Cisco a brief call, informing him of what happened and asking him to meet me at the hospital.

At this point… I have a feeling I will need all the help I can get.

"So, what did he say? Am I going to be under medical supervision again?" Noelle asks when I go inside her salon, a knowing smile on her face.

"Why would you do this if you know what's going to happen? Especially with your history. They won't turn a blind eye."

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