* * *
My back is achingand stiff as I sit on the chair in the corner of my bedroom watching Rosa sleep. It’s been an exhausting night of rushing her to the bathroom and holding her hair as she throws up, then carrying her back to bed.
The hardest part has been her screaming at me for a drink, clawing at my chest as I carry her and begging me to put her out of her pain.
I grew up on the streets; hell, I sell the stuff. I know how powerful that little white powder can be. Rosa, however, doesn’t strike me as a typical junkie. She might be a mafia princess, a party girl, but this level is way beyond that. I’m not even sure she realized she was an addict.
As the sun starts to rise, I get my phone out and use my app to put the black out blinds down. She needs to sleep. So do I, but I won’t. Not until I know she isn’t going to die on me.
She needs someone to protect her, to care for her, and that person is me. Even if my heart is in my throat the entire time.
When she starts to groan in her sleep, I jump out of my chair and crouch beside the bed. I clasp my hand over hers. She’s still warm, but not the furnace she was.
She coughs, and it spikes my panic.
“How are you feeling, Rosa?”I keep my voice calm, even though I feel like screaming right now.
Her voice comes out hoarse. “Like I’ve jumped in front of a bus, had my insides set on fire, and I have someone living inside my brain hammering on my skull.”
She rolls onto her back and stretches out. I need to get her into some fresh clothes. Hell, even a shower.
Despite her deathly looking complexion, her beauty shines through. The silky fabric of her black dress rides up her thigh, and I can’t pull my gaze away from her slender legs. I shake my head, trying to rid the dark thoughts stirring around seeing her on my bed.
“Do you still feel sick?” I can’t stop myself from touching her forehead to check her temperature.
Her eyes widen as she watches my hand. “A little. Nowhere near as bad.”
Relief washes over me, exhaustion taking over. “I’ll get you a glass of fresh water.” When I return, she sits up, digging her heels into the mattress to scoot back against my headboard. Her cheeks pale, and that shake in her hand is still visible. I don’t know if she can even hold the cup.
The bed dips as I sit on the edge. She won’t even look at me, her fingers knot in her dress as I lean closer.
“Rosa, it’s okay. I’m here to help you, not judge you.”
She nods, avoiding my gaze. The quiver as she tries to drink has water sloshing over the rim, so I hold the glass up to her lips, and she takes a small sip. I’m mesmerized watching her throat bob as she swallows, making me shift uncomfortably next to her.
Something is clearly wrong with me.
She barely drinks half when I’m carrying her back to the bathroom and the water makes a swift reappearance. I sit on the tiled floor next to her, rubbing her back as she sobs, holding the toilet. I pull her into my arms and place her between my legs, holding onto her tight while her tears soak through my T-shirt. Her body shivers, and with shaking hands, she’s grabbing hold of my top when I feel her go limp again.
“Shh, it’s going to be okay, I promise you. You will get through this.”
I’m pretty sure she won’t recall any of the last twelve hours. Which can only be a good thing. The place she is at right now is the pits of hell. I just hope I can help her claw her way out.
Her breathing becomes regular, and I know she’s back asleep. Lifting her easily, I carry her back to the bed and pull the thick comforter back over her. Taking my seat across the room, I pull out my phone. I’m in over my head and a hospital isn’t an option. So, I dial the only person I know that can help me.
“Luca, it’s basically the middle of the night. What’s happened?”Her voice is muffled and groggy.
I check my watch, it’s six am.
“I need your help, Mom. Can you come to my place?”
She sounds much more awake as a tinge of panic laces her words. “Of course, son. Give me half an hour.”
I look over to the sleeping Rosa and let out a sigh.
“Thank you. Can you swing by Keller’s on the way? He should have a bag of clothes ready for you.”
“Should I even ask?”