My head was pounding like crazy. I forced my eyes open, but the light stabbed through my skull, so I shut them again. Every muscle in my body ached, like I had been beaten by a thousand thugs.
Then it hit me...
where was I?
The last thing I remembered was being at the restaurant where I worked. Then... everything went black.
"Oh no..." I muttered, panic creeping in as I sat up too fast. The room around me didn't look familiar pale walls, a faint smell of disinfectant. My throat was dry, burning. I needed water. I needed to go back to the restaurant.
How long was I out? Who brought me here? Did my boss fire me already?
I stumbled toward the door, but before I could reach it, someone opened it from the other side.
A young woman entered startled
and dropped the bowl of water she was holding. She rushed to me, helping me back onto the bed.
"I'm so sorry, sir! Are you alright?" she asked anxiously.
I could barely get a word out. "Water..." I croaked.
She nodded quickly and hurried out, returning moments later with a cup in her hand. I gulped it down greedily, feeling life slowly return to my dry mouth.
"Where am I?" I asked once I could finally speak. My voice trembled.
"This house belongs to the person who hired me to look after you," she said gently.
"Hired you?" I frowned. "How long have I been here?"
"Four days," she replied with a kind smile.
"Four days?!" I blurted out, nearly jumping off the bed. "Holy crap... I'm fired for sure." My mind was spinning. "My boss will never forgive me."
"Who hired you?" I asked again, trying to hide my rising anxiety.
The woman hesitated. "Actually... I don't know her name. She never told me. She's not too tall short, dark hair,hazel eyes and she's always with this bald guy. I assumed he was her boyfriend."
Rosa.
And Parez.
Why are they always together?
I clenched my fists, anger and confusion swirling together. I thought she didn't care about me. Why is she doing this now?
If I ever saw Parez again, I swore I'd put my fist through his smug face.
"I have to go," I muttered, half to myself.
The woman panicked. "No, please! You need to rest. I have to call the person who hired me tell her you're awake!"
Rosa will come, I thought. She'll come here. Then I'll ask her everything everything she's refused to say for years.
"Alright," I said finally, forcing myself back into the bed. "I'll wait."
She nodded and hurried out.
After what felt like an hour, she returned but not with Rosa. A man followed her instead, grinning broadly.
"Finally awake!" he said cheerfully, stepping closer. "That's a miracle."
I tensed, stepping back. "Who are you?"
"Easy, son," the man said. "I'm Doctor Sanchez. And this is Mia she's your home nurse. We've been taking care of you since you were discharged from the hospital."
"Thanks," I muttered coldly, "but I don't want to see you." I turned to Mia. "Where's the one who hired you?"
"She...uh...she said if you're feeling better, you're free to leave," Mia replied softly. "I don't know why. She was the one most desperate for you to wake up."
She won't let me live for her, and she won't let me die because of her.
Those thoughts echoed bitterly in my head. Still, hope? How foolish of me,
I wish I could hate her, what do I do now!
I grabbed Mia's arm. "Tell me where she is. Please. It's important."
Her eyes widened in fear. "I really don't know, sir!"
"Don't lie to me!" I snapped. "I just want to thank her"
my mind was going ferel, I had no idea what I was doing or why I wanted to see Rosa either,, maybe I have become addicted to the pain her words cause me
I needed to hear it everytime so I can move on,,
"Let go of her," the doctor interrupted firmly, gripping my shoulder. "You're scaring the girl."
I looked at Mia's eyes trembling, terrified and immediately let go. She rushed out of the room without looking back.
Doctor Sanchez sighed, lowering himself into a chair. His tone softened. "Who are you, and what's your relationship with Rosa?"
"My name's Cecilio," I said flatly, snatching my wallet and keys from the desk. "That's all you need to know."
As I turned toward the door, the doctor spoke again. "I can tell you where Rosa is."
I froze. "Then tell me."
"Won't you at least let me examine you first?" he asked.
"I'm fine," I said quickly. "Just tell me where she is."
The doctor studied me for a long moment, then sighed. He pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled something on my palm
an address!.
"something about you reminds me of a man I once hated," he said with a crooked smile. "He was a very bad man. Are you a bad man too?"
Cecilio stared down at the ink on his hand. "Without realizing it," he said quietly, "I might have to become one."
He grabbed his jacket and left without another word.
Doctor Sanchez watched him go. For a long while, he said nothing. Then he reached for his phone and dialed a number.
The man on the other end barked, "What do you want, dimwit? I'm busy."
Sanchez ignored the insult. "Who told you Antonio's son died in prison?"
"Everyone knows that," the man replied. "He died a year after being detained. Rosa even held a ground ritual for him. It's old news. Why bring that up?"
"Well," Sanchez said calmly, "I met someone four days ago. I wasn't sure at first, because I'd only seen her once but it really was the almighty Rosalind, daughter of Antonio, the soulless drug lord."
"What?" the man barked. "You met her? Why did she come to you?"
"She needed a home doctor," Sanchez explained. "A patient under her care had just been discharged, and my hospital manager recommended me. She didn't even run a background check,, too preoccupied with that young man. He reminded me so much of Antonio that it was almost haunting. Rosa was desperate for him to wake up. Impatient. Emotional. It pissed me off, but I kept quiet. She didn't recognize me... and that was for the best."
The voice on the other line went cold. "Why are you telling me this? Did you kill the boy when you had the chance?"
"I'm a doctor," Sanchez said. "It's against my profession to take a life. Besides, I've got a wife and five sons I'm not interested in provoking Rosa's wrath. But I am interested in giving you the chance to get your revenge on the one who killed your father."
There was a long silence.
"Leon was a good friend of mine," Sanchez continued. "That's why I'm taking this risk. Be careful. And don't you dare mention my name."
"Got it," the voice said. "You've done your part, Sanchez."
"Good. It's up to you now, Gael," Sanchez replied, ending the call.
He slipped his phone into his pocket, muttering to himself, "My wife's making lasagna tonight. Better not be late."
Then he left the room
leaving behind only the faint smell of disinfectant and the echo of a name that hadn't been spoken in years.