by Ann, Bry
With a nod, the doctor heads for the door.
“Well, that’s your cue.” Boss heads for the door as well. “Let me know if she needs anything, alright?”
“Yes, Boss.”
“And Seven, hang in there. Tomorrow we’ll have Ben, or whoever the fuck, and you can get some of the shit in your head out.”
‘Cause he knows I’m running out of time. The demons are catching up and I need to fight them.
Before they win.
* * *
Isla
The doctor was actually nice. 10/10 for bedside manner for a confused, scared girl. I didn’t even have it in me to evaluate him as a medical doctor. I was simply a woman wanting the discomfort and misery to end, just praying he didn’t hurt me more in the process.
“Knock, knock. It’s just me, hun.”
Seven pushes the door open, first popping his head in, then the rest of his massive frame. I’m propped up against Nia’s headboard, her princess book in hand with the rocks and Kit-Kats on the nightstand next to me.
“You look loads better, Isla. I see you got Nia’s…” He waves his hand around, unsure what to call it.
“Pick me ups?” I offer.
“Yeah, those.” He looks at me wearily for a moment. “Mind if I sit on the bed?”
I scoot over and nod. “Of course not.”
Slowly, footsteps dragging, he plops down on the mattress. The tension riddling his body makes me want to do crazy things like run my hand up and down his strong arms. Which… I’m crazy. High on medication and shock, probably.
“How are you doing?”
I shrug. “I have a lotttt of medication in me right now. I feel… not like myself. Whatever I say, you have to ignore ‘til it’s out of my system.”
He chuckles lightly. “Alright, hun. Whatever you say.”
Hun. He keeps calling me that and it’s digging in. I don’t like it.
“Sorry I scared you,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “You should have had my number. I can’t believe I overlooked that. I keep doing that with you.”
His lips pull together tightly.
“You forgot to give me your number, Seven. Big deal. Yesterday was a crazy day. I’m pretty sure you were distracted enough by my twenty-five panic attacks.”
He sucks his lower lip in. God, ugh, why is he so hot and why am I so horny? This is beyond inappropriate and… something’s wrong with me.
“This is all my fault, Isla.”
That snaps me back to the moment real quick. Slinking back a bit, I whisper, “What do you mean?”
Running a hand over his face, he lets out a sound that can only be described as a cross between a growl and a whimper.
“I was supposed to take Nia to see our doctor, the one you just met. We don’t do hospitals or regular docs unless someone is literally gonna die. And even then, honestly, it’s usually just for people we can’t or don’t want to lose, as harsh as that is. But that’s this world, Isla. I…” He sighs. “My childhood wasn’t great. I can’t change the life I have now. I’m too screwed up, but I wanna do everything in my power to do right by Nia. The world hasn’t been fucking fair to her so far. My goal is to give her a life as normal as possible. For instance, this apartment. Yeah, everyone else lives at the mansion, but with Nia on board and with my issues, I couldn’t live there. I wanted her away. Boss is even facing shit with his own daughter for what she’s exposed to. Anyway, seeing a normal pediatrician with stickers and shit was just another entry on my list of things to grant her some normalcy. I don’t want this life for her. I never intended…”
He takes my hand tightly, letting his guilt seep through his skin to mine, sending warmth surging through my body.
“I’m so sorry, Isla Grace. I’m so, so sorry. It’s my fault you’re in this mess. And I promise…” His eyes harden, giving me insight into the violence he carries and buries deep inside him. Oddly, it doesn’t scare me. It heats me up and makes me feel safe. “I promise that I’ll fix it.”
I turn away. His hand tenses and tries to pull away from mine. I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking I blame him, but I don’t. Not one bit. His plea, his apology, is making my lips tingle with the urge to kiss him.
“You’re such a good dad, Seven,” I whisper, fisting the comforter.
“Thank you,” he says carefully.
God, he hasn’t let go of my hand…
I fist the comforter tighter and hiss out a deep breath.
“Seven, I don’t blame you at all. How could I? I want Nia to see a real pediatrician, too. What happened was a freak thing. Every child deserves a doctor that will dote on them and break the mold of fear that most MD’s invoke in children. It’s why I do what I do.”
“It wasn’t a freak thing,” he roars, nearly making me tumble off the bed in shock. “The man I work for has enemies. A fuck ton of ‘em. I put you in harm’s way to—”
“To give your adopted daughter, that you love, a normal experience!” I scream right back, matching his pitch.
His nostrils flare. “You’re hurt!”
“I’m alive, though!”
“You. Are. Beat. Up,” he grits out through clenched teeth.
“Yep.”
I keep my hazel eyes locked onto his brown ones.
“I am, Seven. I am beat up. Definitely didn’t see my life going this way, but I’ll learn to live with it and you will, too. You chose the life you did. You picked it!” Without even knowing it, I realize my finger is jabbing at his chest.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know innocent people could get hurt, ‘cause you did. So, don’t take something actually good you did, warp it, and pin that shit on me, ‘cause this isn’t about what happened to me. It’s about something bigger. So, cut it out,” I finish on a breath, chest heaving with adrenaline and physical exhaustion. A combination of stress, medication, illness, and injury will do that to a person.
Seven goes quiet next to me. Quiet for a long time. After about ten minutes of silence, I glance over at him with just my eyes. He’s staring into space, jaw locked.
“Seven?” I whisper.
His jaw starts to tick.
“Seven? You’re scaring me.”
I actually turn this time and what I see steals my breath. He’s here, but he’s not. His eyes are full of demons and rage. So much rage and anger and pain that it snatches the air right out of my lungs.
“Seven,” I say softly.
With shaking fingers, I reach out and touch his chest to soothe him. To take some of the agony out of his eyes.
As soon as my fingers brush across the tense muscles of his chest, I’m through the air and hands are wrapping around my throat like I touched a booby trap.
“Seven!” I screech. I stare into his eyes, mine wide and panicked, to find his dark as night. I don’t know what’s going on, but he’s not here. He’s not doing this on purpose. And even though he’s choking the life out of me right now, all I can think is that when he comes to, he’s gonna be buried under even more guilt.
“Die, motherfucker! Die, motherfucker! Die! Die,” he cries with no fury, just broken desperation. His hands crush down on my windpipe, wrenching a cry from deep within.
“Seven,” I croak, since I can’t scream. I reach my hands out blindly; even though touching him got me in this situation, maybe tender, caring, female touch will get me out.
I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. All of my survival instincts are flaring as colors dance in my vision.
“Please,” I whisper, voice fading. “Seven.”
My eyes flicker. It hurts. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.
I can’t find him reaching out blindly like this. My arms collapse, giving out without oxygen to fuel them. I know how this process works. My doctor brain is running through what is happening stage by stage and how much time I have left before I die or am left with permanent damage.
It’s all happening so fast.
One of my fallen hands la
nds on his wrist at the base of my throat. I open my mouth to plead for him to realize what he’s doing, but my eyes flutter and my voice fails me.
Danny’s gonna lose his mind.
Nia… Oh God, Seven can’t kill me. He’ll lose it. He won’t be the best he can be for Nia.
A tear streams down my cheek and lands on his hand. The one I have one of my own hands wrapped around.
I wish I could have read more. What a weird thought. Am I supposed to think that as I die? I wish I had sex with someone other than the loser who I slept with drunk as a teen who got off and left me with nothing but shame.
I wish my dad didn’t die. I wish he’d loved me, but the pain of losing Mom and having no money was too much and he loved booze more.
I wish I helped more kids, but I also wish I worked less. I wish I were a mom. Whoo… that cut deep. I always wanted to have the honor of being a little boy or girl’s mother.
I wish I loved someone other than a boy-then-man who could never love me back.
I wish could see Danny get married as a Fuck You to his dad. We had it all planned out. The pictures we’d send his asshole father in the mail.
My heart aches as peace overtakes my miserable, aching body.
I’m floating, drifting off to a place where maybe I won’t have so many regrets.
“Isla! ISLA!” A voice bellows. I can hear it in the distance.
There’s less pressure…
Am I going to the light or staying in the dark?
HUHHHH! My chest flies off the bed as my body involuntarily sucks in all the air it can, choosing the darkness all on its own. I blink my eyes open. Why are my feet floating? My dreary eyes look ahead to see my feet propped up on the headstand. My body’s been turned to get me there. Slowly, I drag one foot off, then the other. My body feels like it’s lagging. I turn my head just in time to see Seven jump from the bed like it caught fire. He stares at me then turns away, breathing deeply. His chest heaves beneath his thick flannel. Are mafia men supposed to wear flannel? There’s no doubt in my mind that’s what I’m wrapped up in now.
The mafia.
He stares at me again in horror, tugging at the ends of his hair. I want to say something, anything, to make him stop looking at me like that. I want to know what happened to him to make him suffer from PTSD so severely.
But my mind won’t work and my tongue won’t move. To make it all worse, the horror won’t leave Seven’s face.
Demons dance in the back of his eyes, flashing their fire for me to see.
His lips are curled with self-disgust.
I crawl forward on the bed to grab his hand, even though I’m slow as molasses, but he leaps back like I’m poison.
“Don’t come near me, Isla,” he warns in a whisper. “Stay away from me. I’m… no good. You should be nowhere near me. I…”
His eyes dart to my throat and widen. In a swift blow of air, he’s gone. Charging down the hallway.
My heart skids to a stop. He can’t leave me alone with his demons. I can’t handle them all by myself.
I need him!
“Seven!” I rasp, jumping from the bed. Well, “jumping.” My body is lagging in speed and coordination. I trip over the covers in my effort to reach him before he… he what? I don’t know. Before he fully leaves me. I have leeway now.
“Seven, please,” I plead from the end of the hallway when I get there. “Don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me.”
His body freezes. Hands fisting. Muscles tightening.
“Have I not done enough damage to you, Isla?” he snarls.
Um… please go back to saying one to five words at time in a stoic, monotone manner.
I don’t like this tone. It’s scaring me.
He rounds.
“What? You need to be in constant danger to be happy? Have the straight 24 hours of torture not been enough?!” he roars.
My eyes water. ‘Cause I’m weak. I’m weak. I’m not like the girls in books with endless sarcasm and strength. I’m all weakness, emotion, and heart.
“You don’t mean that,” I whisper. I wish my voice wasn’t hoarse. It isn’t stopping him from shedding his much darker second skin.
“Seven, I’m tired. Pl-please just put on a movie for me. I-I’m hungry.”
I risk a step closer. I feel so small, all 5’1 of me, in just a double layer of his shirts to cover me.
“Please don’t do this.”
“The fuck am I doing, Isla? Leaving you alone after, I don’t know, attacking you! Nearly killing you in my daughter’s bed sheets. Is that what you don’t want me to do?”
I wince. Put that way, it sounds… awful. It was awful. Is. I just don’t want him to leave me right now and I don’t know why. But I feel high. I feel drugged and I don’t want him to leave me alone.
“Yes, that’s what I don’t want you to do,” I tell him.
One step closer. Slowly.
He looks away. It’s then that I see his hands trembling.
Two steps closer.
I can reach out and touch him.
“Stay there, Isla.”
“You’re hurting.”
“This isn’t something you can fix, doc.”
“Don’t call me doc!” I gasp on instinct, wincing immediately. His head spins to look at me, then remembers ice man, and nods.
“Never again.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t you fucking thank me, okay! Just… don’t.”
His voice wobbles and then, despite his body being turned away from me, I see a tear dribble down his beard. He quickly wipes it, but not before I see.
“Talk to me.”
“No.”
“What happened to you? I’m a good listener.”
He lets out a humorless laugh. “I don’t typically have heart to hearts with my victims, Isla.”
I hate that word. I hate it so much.
“Don’t be an asshole. I’m tired. I’m tired and I’m hungry. I feel high and disoriented now, too. Are you gonna make me some damn food and put on a movie or not? I’m tired of begging you to do the right thing.”
His eyes meet mine, blank. Completely blank. Is this really better than scary?
“Of course.” His voice is that stoic, militant tone from before. “Everything’s gonna hurt going down. Have a preference of blended soup or smoothie?”
“Soup, please.”
He nods. “Grab a blanket, shower, whatever you need. The remote’s in the left drawer of the living room table. Pick what you want. I don’t care if it costs money to rent.”
With that, he leaves.
I got my way. Or did I?
I have his body, but I sure don’t have his mind. I don’t have one bit of that. That’s what I should have asked for.
Now I’m too shy to try again.
Chapter Fourteen
Isla
I curl up on the couch with my Kindle in hand. The book’s not appealing. For the first time in my life, it’s not. I want to throw it across the room and stomp on it. Over and over and over again.
Things don’t happen like they do in books!
No one loves you or holds you. It doesn’t end in wedding bells and flowers. If I live through this, I’m gonna get a bag of trauma and a life that will now feel empty, devoid of feeling.
I throw the Kindle down on the couch with tears in my eyes. That’s supposed to be my escape! NOT MY REALITY!
“Ugh!”
My head lolls back.
“Your food.”
Seven is stiff and stoic as he places my food—well, soup—down on the table.
“It’s butternut, pureed. I had some already made. Hope that’s okay?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Read or movie?”
“Movie.” Definitely movie. “I was waiting for you.”
“I’m not staying,” he informs me.
I can’t take this.
“Fine, go.” I stand up, slam my food down on the table, and try to see thr
ough the splitting headache that’s now smacked me square across the face.
“I’m over it.”
I start to storm away when warmth coats my hand. I stop and close my eyes, inhaling every piece of control I can muster.
“What, Seven?”
“What do you need?”
His voice is soft.
“A hug. I need a hug. A real hug.”
“You’re not scared to have me hug you?”
“What are you thinking right now?”
He pauses. “You don’t wanna know, Isla.”
“No, I’m not scared. I’d risk just about anything for a real hug right now.”
“Come here, hun.”
He pulls lightly and tugs me into his chest.
Warmth, ahhh…
It surrounds me like a blanket, coating my frayed nerves. His arms go around me and rub gently, up and down, up and down, wordlessly.
I squeeze him as tightly as I can. Like a life raft in a raging river.
“Stay ‘til I go to sleep. Don’t leave me alone. Please.”
“I hate how you say please,” he murmurs in my hair.
“Why?”
There’s a long silence.
“‘Cause I can’t say no to you when you do.”
Something blooms in my chest. Something I learned to naturally swallow at work, but it’s almost too strong this time.
“You should eat something.”
“I promise I will tomorrow.” Oh shit, tomorrow! I shoot back. “I have work tomorrow. I have to work. I can’t call out. I’m too, uh…”
“You can say important, Isla. I won’t find you cocky.”
I blush. “Yeah, that. I’m that. I have to go.”
“You look like hell.”
“Please don’t go easy on my account.”
He shakes his head at me.
“Let’s take it a day at a time. Do you need a shower or anything?”
“My meds are kicking in…” And my head hurts like it’s gonna explode, but he’ll leave if I tell him that. “I just want to go to bed, if that’s okay.”