CHIARA
I was able to drag myself to the balcony. I sat on the edge of the pool. My blood-soaked shirt was long ripped off and I was only left with my bra. I raised the bottle of wine and washed the wound.
"Fuck!" I wailed, breathing heavily. It burned like a fire. I let the tears fall and shook my head. I was getting sleepy, but I had to get that damn bullet out first. I raised the knife I'd found around. My hand shook as I directed it to the wound and failed so miserably. It fell down. "Fuck. Fuck you, knife." Energy was rapidly leaving my body. I laid on my back. The stars were oddly bright tonight. I blinked, tears falling through the corners of my eyes.
"Maybe I should've just died too, tonight." Pain shot on my throat. But then I would've died without seeing his face again. Without hearing him again. Without feeling how relaxing and exciting his touch was against my skin. Everything was paining me, everything. I shut my eyes, blowing out a painful breath.
"Jesus Christ, Chiara! What the hell are you doing?" My eyes flew open. Was I dreaming again? He couldn't possibly be here. Why would he even come for me? What did he forget from me? Then my body was lifted from the cold floor. My eyes widened as I took him in. My heavy hand rose to touch his face, tears blinded my vision.
A shaky breath left me. He was real. My lips trembled and a weird sound left my mouth. "You're here?" His hands tightened around me. "Of course, I'm here. And you are trying to kill yourself out here. Fuck!" He walked back inside with me. While I just stared at him, blinking tears in disbelief. My throat felt so painful to speak. And the broken pieces of my shattered heart were searching for each other, painfully. He was here. He was holding me in his arms. And I still found it hard to believe.
He took me to his bedroom. The same room that I had avoided since the day he left like a plague. He took me straight to the bathroom and placed me in the bathtub. My eyes never left him. I didn't even blink. I couldn't. I feared if I looked away even for a second, he would vanish. Like he always did. He opened the drawer and took out a first aid kit. "You need to see a doctor. He'll be here in no time." I only needed to see you.
He came to sit on the edge. He grew a beard, and he still looked as handsome as ever. "This is going to hurt." He said. I was hurting without you. I winced when I felt liquid washing my wound. I gripped the edges of the bathtub, eyes zeroed on him. He had a deep frown on as he looked at me before looking away.
A wail tore from my mouth when he plucked the bullet from my shoulder. He dropped down everything and pulled me in for a hug. I clung into his arms, breathing heavily. This was real. My heart squeezed. His scent hit home and I shut my eyes, smiling. Now I could die happily.
After a while, he washed the blood off my body and wrapped a band aid on my shoulder. He carried me to the room and placed me on the bed, in a towel. He wrapped me in a bed cover. "I'll go and call the doctor again" He uttered and was about to leave but I held his wrist.
I felt like time stopped as my heart thundered in my ears. He looked down at our hands and then at my face. "Stay. Please." I whimpered and didn't give a fuck that I did. He regarded me with his frown and then peeled my hand off his wrist. I fisted my hands preparing myself for his painful remark. But then he went to grab a chair and came to sit a few inches away from me.
My heart skipped a beat when our eyes held before he focused on his phone. The corners of my lips lifted. He didn't leave. And even if there was so much distance between us… I could work with this. He talked to the doctor and then hung up. We silently looked at each other. I had a lot of things to say to him. But I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I would anger him, and he would leave. I winced when pain suddenly shot up. He almost got up from the chair, but then he grunted and sat back down. "The doctor will be here soon."
His jaws were tight, his forehead had two deep lines, and with that beard he grew, he looked comical. I chortled. He glared at me. "Something funny?" I craved this man with every fiber of my being. If only I could touch his face. Or kiss him. My eyes fell to his lips. "Nothing." I shook my head and sighed, facing the ceiling.
A moment later the doctor came. He examined my hand and treated me with the help of his female nurse. I got sutured. Something unimaginably wonderful happened. Carmelo held my hand throughout the process and then let go of it like I was burning his skin after. He said he hated my face, and that I looked like an old witch when I cried. And that I should stop crying. The broken pieces had found each other now, and they were mending my heart, slowly. A woman could be hopeful.
The curtains were pulled aside, and the sky was orange now. I must've dozed off. I stared at the empty chair before me. And my heart started to pound inside my chest. No. Tears started to pool in my eyes. I should have stayed awake. Why did I sleep? I gripped the sheets and pushed myself up. A groan tore from my lips. I had a sickening back ache, but screw that. He was gone, again.
Footsteps echoed in the closet and then the man walked out. He stole the breath right out of my lungs. He was here! He didn't leave, you idiot! But he was certainly leaving now. I scanned his outfit, and my heart skipped a beat in realization. "You have found the one who hired them?" I blurted. He wore a bullet vest and was tasting out guns spread on a table. I felt a slam in my chest.
"Yes." He replied curtly. Don't go. Please. "Who was it?" He paused and turned to face me. "Enzo. That fucker sent them." My eyebrows drew together.
"Wasn't he in jail?"
"Oh, you didn't hear?"
"Hear what, Melo?"
"He broke out of jail and is now on the wanted list. Either way, we are going after him too." He tucked his guns in his holsters and then wore his jacket.
I dragged myself out of bed and approached him. He stared at me with a judging face. I moved in and hugged him anyway, letting out a breath of relief when we came in contact for the first time in a long dreadful while. "Please be careful. Don't get hurt." I uttered. He didn't move to hug me back, but he also didn't push me off him.
I pulled back after a while, tears rolling out again. It's like I had no control of my emotions anymore. I just kept crying from time to time. He raised his hand and wiped my cheeks. His thumb lingered on the corner of my lips. "Witch." He murmured, something familiar shone in his eyes before he retracted his hand. "Marina made something for you. Eat, have your medicine and rest. And you better not let me find you on the balcony again." He spared me a glance before exiting the room.
My hand went to my face and touched right where his hand was. My skin was still feeling his touch. Warm and relaxing. I beamed. At least he touched me.
I wished to stop him. But I knew better not to. He looked determined and I wouldn't hold back a man who sets out to protect his family. Enzo was a pain in the ass. And as much as I wanted to end him with my own hands. I wished Carmelo would find him.