by Lylah James
“Oh, shit! Shit! Fuck!” He panicked and rushed inside.
My heart was wild and my stomach dropped at Maddie’s cry. I followed Phoenix, but when I got closer, the smell of blood hit me. My eyes went wide in alarm and I ran inside.
The sight almost brought me to my knees.
Maddie looked up at me with tearful eyes and sobbed. “Ayla. She…”
Ayla was covered in blood. Her eyes were closed and she looked deathly pale. A look I never wanted to see on her. Rushing forward, I sank down to my knees beside Maddie.
“Here,” I heard Viktor say beside me. I glanced up and saw that he was handing me some towels. “We need to put pressure on her wounds to stop the bleeding.”
He was right. We had to stop the bleeding.
“Call Sam!” I ordered harshly, without tearing my eyes from Ayla’s face. Taking the towels from Viktor, I placed them on the cuts and pressed down gently. She didn’t move. Not even a flinch. Maddie was still crying silently, her chest heaving with each quiet sob.
Leaning forward, I took Ayla from her arms and pulled her closer to my chest, not caring one bit that I was getting blood all over me.
I brought a hand up and palmed her cold, pale cheek. “Ayla?” I whispered, my voice sounding hoarse and strange even to my own ears.
She didn’t respond. Instead she laid limp and still in my arms. But she was breathing. It was faint, but it was there. Ayla was alive and I forced my brain to accept that fact even though it felt like my heart was being split into two. The pressure building there was unbearable and my stomach cramped almost painfully.
The last time I felt that way was when I witnessed my mother’s death.
I sucked a painful breath at the thought and shook my head. No. This wasn’t happening again. I won’t let it.
Wrapping my arms tightly around Ayla, I stood up. I kept my eyes on her as I walked out of the bathroom and made my way to her bed. Gently placing her on the mattress, I sat down beside her and pulled her arms forward so that I could continue putting pressure on the wounds.
With her eyes closed, her face so pale, and her black hair cascading on the pillow, she looked so fragile. Vulnerable. And so broken.
The sight made my heart ache, and I closed my eyes at the flash of pain.
I shouldn’t have been feeling this way, but it hurt seeing Ayla in this state. And I couldn’t understand why she would do something like that. She seemed happy.
Opening my eyes, I stared at her arms. Why would she try to kill herself?
Even though I asked the question a hundred times in my head, I could guess the answer. But I wanted to know the real truth. I didn’t want to assume anymore.
I leaned forward slightly and moved away the few strands of hair covering her face. I let my fingers linger there, hoping for a reaction from her. When I didn’t get anything, I sighed and took my hand away.
Ayla’s chest was moving slowly up and down, her breathing slightly labored. I felt powerless as I stared at her.
Shifting my eyes away from her, I looked at Viktor, who was standing behind me. His face was grim and worried. “Where is Sam?” I growled.
Sam was our personal doctor, who lived on the estate. The hospital wasn’t always a good choice and we needed someone who would be quick on their feet without asking us questions. The best option was having someone in the same lifestyle.
And Sam fit the role perfectly.
“I’m here,” Sam said as he rushed forward.
His gaze roamed over Ayla. “Damn it,” he whispered. Sam leaned forward and I regretfully let go of Ayla and stood up, moving out of his way.
He sat down in my place and took the towel off from Ayla’s hand, slightly hissing at the sight.
“Is it bad? How bad is it?” I asked as pins and needles crept up my legs. I grew more panicked when I saw Sam’s pensive face.
He shook his head and whispered while he continued to inspect Ayla’s cut. “I need to clean the blood away to see how bad it is. Her breathing is shallow, but it is okay. Her heart rate isn’t that bad either.”
That was good. That should be good. I kept repeating the words over and over again in my head as I tried to calm down.
Sam cleaned some of the blood from Ayla’s arm and we saw a long cut going vertically up her arms. I wanted to roar. I couldn’t imagine the pain that she must have been through. The thought of her going through this felt like a serrated edge over my thumping heart.
“Thank God,” I heard Sam breathe out.
“What?” I asked, leaning forward.
“The cut is not that deep. Cutting vertically could be deadly, but she didn’t put much pressure in the cut, so no major artery or veins were damaged,” he explained. “She is lucky she is still alive. It’s obvious she’s lost some blood, but not a lot. She was found fairly quickly. I wish I could use the skin glue. It would be less painful, but the best option is stitches.” He looked up at me, waiting for my response.
Why the fuck was he waiting?
“Just do it then. Stop wasting time!”
He nodded and got to work.
It took him a few hours to clean up the wound, stitch the cuts, and bandage it carefully. The whole time, I paced the room, growing impatient. I couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling. As the minutes and hours passed, no matter how hard I tried to hide it, I couldn’t.
I was worried. Scared. And helpless.
Maddie was still silently crying. Phoenix had his arms wrapped around her, trying to calm her down. Nikolay and Viktor were both leaning against the wall, trying to look disinterested, but they were clearly worried by the look on their face.
Nikolay’s cold face was ashen and he kept his eyes on Ayla, while Viktor was fidgeting around, clearly showing his nervousness.
And Lena. She almost fainted when she came into the room. Viktor had to take her away as she cried.
“Done.” Sam sighed from his spot next to Ayla.
I stopped pacing and shifted my gaze to her.
“Is she going to be okay?” Maddie asked, her voice soft and croaky from the tears.
“If you are talking about her wound, yes. I stopped the bleeding. She is breathing fine. But emotionally and mentally, I don’t know. This could have been a suicide attempt, but if it was, she would have cut deeper. As long as she stays unconscious, we won’t get our answers. But what’s more important is figuring out why so we can help her.”
“But there was nothing wrong with her,” Maddie argued as she stepped out of Phoenix’s protective embrace.
“Did she try this before?” Sam asked.
“Not that I know of,” Maddie replied. She walked closer and sat down beside Ayla.
“There could be a lot of factors in play. The biggest of them all is depression. Something obviously led her to do this. Does she have nightmares?”
My eyes widened. “Ayla has nightmares. She was even hallucinating that she had blood on her.”
“Nightmares, hallucinations, and a suicide attempt,” Sam said, his gaze still on Ayla. “My best guess is post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“Fuck,” I swore, running my fingers through my hair in frustration. It was right there in front of me. It was so fucking obvious and yet I didn’t see it.
Or maybe I didn’t want to see it. I had refused to acknowledge her pain.
I saw Nikolay moving away from the wall and he took a protective step forward. He crossed his arms over his chest as he stared at Sam expectantly.
“PTSD?” Maddie questioned. “You mean that something happened to her?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. It could be anything. Rape, abuse, or she witnessed something,” Sam explained. “Something happened that affected her to the point where she has nightmares, hallucinations, and she was so far gone that she even attempted suicide.”
“She never said anything,” Maddie whispered.
“A lot of PTSD patients don’t say anything. Ayla doesn’t know us well enough. There needs to be a lo
t of trust between the patient and the person he or she shares her experience with.”
“How do we deal with this? How do we help her? We can’t let her live like this.” Maddie started to panic again, her voice rising an octave.
“We are going to help her,” Nikolay said from behind me. Those were the first words he’d spoken since we found Ayla bleeding on the floor.
“But how?” she cried, fear in her voice.
“First of all, be patient and understanding with her. Don’t push if she doesn’t say anything. You could coax her, but not too much. The best way to deal with a PTSD patient is be as loving as you can. Show that you care and support her. Don’t let her feel alone. Joke. Lighten up the mood. Make sure she is happy,” Sam suggested.
There had to have been a trigger. Rubbing the back of my neck in frustration, I tried to relieve the tension there but it was useless. My muscles were corded and tensed. My head was pounding. My stomach felt sick and my heart hurt.
I was so lost gazing at Ayla’s still form that I almost missed what Sam was saying.
“I’m going to prescribe her an anti-depressant. It won’t treat her PTSD, but for now, it could calm her and make her feel less sad, worried, or on edge. I’m also going to give her sleeping pills. It might keep the nightmares at bay. Just make sure she doesn’t take too many at a time,” Sam said. “I would suggest keeping the pills away from her so that she doesn’t have access to them. One of you should be responsible for giving her the pills at the prescribed time.”
“I’ll do it,” Maddie said.
“Good. She needs to be taken care of. Be gentle.”
Gentle. That wasn’t in our vocabulary. We didn’t know what gentle was.
“Boss. Can I take my leave?” Sam asked after a few minutes of silence.
I nodded without looking away from Ayla.
“Maddie, you should get cleaned up,” I heard Phoenix say behind me.
“Let me change Ayla’s clothing first. She is covered in blood. I will change the bedding too and then I’ll go,” Maddie said.
***
After Maddie demanded we leave the room, we waited outside the door. None of us spoke.
I paced. Each passing minute without Ayla was pure agony. I didn’t like being away from her when she was in this state. The thought made me cringe. All the emotions coursing through my body felt foreign. Ayla was making me lose control.
Fuck, I had already lost control and didn’t even realize it yet. She was deep under my skin. Ayla made my cold, unfeeling heart…feel. I felt pain. I felt sadness. All for her.
Leaning against the wall, I banged my head in defeat and closed my eyes with a sigh.
When I heard the door open, my eyes snapped open and I moved away from the wall. “Did she wake up?” I asked. Maddie shook her head dejectedly.
“I will keep an eye on her,” I said, my voice ringing with finality as I walked inside the room. Closing the door behind me, I moved the wooden chair next to Ayla’s bed and sat down heavily on it.
I had to touch her, to feel her. To make sure that she was really alive, breathing and real. Leaning forward in my chair, I gently rubbed my thumb over her fingers and then moved up to the inside of her wrist that wasn’t covered with the bandages. I stroked the tender skin there and ran my thumb over her steady pulse.
I had learned how to mask my emotions and feelings, yet this woman knew how to change it all. In the short time that I had known her, she made me feel more than I had in twenty-two years.
Pulling my hand away, I ran them through my hair. There was no time for weaknesses. And emotions were definitely a weakness. It would only get me killed.
Sitting down beside Ayla, while waiting for her to wake up, I tried to drill that thought into my brain.
And when she did finally wake up, I had my emotions in check. Schooling my features to be impassive, I straightened in my chair when I saw her shifting in the bed.
Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at the ceiling, confused. I saw her wince and she slowly turned to face me. Her eyes widened and she let out a shocked gasp.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Good…morning…”
“How are you feeling?”
Her forehead creased and she looked deep in thought. “I don’t know. Weird. My head hurts.”
Ayla brought her hand up but she winced again. Her eyes widened at the sight of the bandages wrapped around her arms. She froze, her hand still in the air over her face.
“Do you remember?” I asked, leaning forward.
She was silent for a few seconds and then nodded, slowly and cautiously.
“Ayla, why did you do it?” I tried to keep my voice soft, making sure that I didn’t spook her with my questions.
But she didn’t answer.
She sighed and her hand fell back down on the mattress. Her gaze moved to the ceiling again and she purposely avoided eye contact with me.
“If you don’t talk to us, we can’t help you, Ayla. And we want to help,” I whispered. “Say something,” I begged when she didn’t answer.
It was like I wasn’t even there anymore.
I moved my hand so that it laid next to hers, our fingers resting mere inches apart.
“Ayla.” Sucking a deep breath in, I tried to calm my rapid beating heart. “I can assume what happened. I can guess. But I don’t want to assume. I want to hear the real truth from you. Say something. Anything.”
No words were uttered from her.
Nothing.
She stayed stubbornly silent.
I rubbed my other hand tiredly over my face and pinched the bridge of my nose before blowing out a frustrated breath.
This was harder than I thought.
After a few minutes of utter silence between us, I leaned closer. “You are worth more than you think,” I whispered softly, hoping that the words would have some effect on her. “You bring happiness to others. You bring light, Ayla. You have people who care about you. People who want to help. Let us help.”
But she didn’t react. Her body stayed rigid as she continued to stare at the ceiling, almost unflinching.
I hated the unfairness that Ayla had to go through. I wanted to know the truth. No, I was desperate for the truth. I needed to know who she was and who the fuck hurt her.
I looked down at our hands. They were next to each other but not touching. I inched my fingers closer to hers, feeling the heavy tension and anguish rolling off her in waves.
“Can I touch you?” I asked.
I shifted my gaze up just in time to see her eyes widening in shock at my question. “Can I hold your hand?” I murmured, wanting another reaction from her.
But Ayla stayed silent. Her green eyes lost focus again. If it was possible, she grew even more tense and I started to worry if I had pushed too hard, too fast.
Rather than answering, Ayla slowly moved her hand. But she didn’t move toward me. Instead, she took her hand away and placed it over her stomach.
That was all the answer I got. But it spoke volumes.
She was shutting down and refusing any comfort.
I blew out a sharp breath and then sighed as I stood up. “I just want you to know that you are loved. You matter. To Maddie. To Lena.” I paused and swallowed hard. And to me. But I didn’t say it out loud.
Silence.
Ayla closed her eyes, effectively shutting me out. She was reclusive. Unresponsive.
I stared at her one last time before turning around and walking away. Each step I took away from her was painful but I forced myself to take them.
She needed time alone. To think and to come to terms with what happened. But I just hoped that she heard the words I said.
Because they were the truth.
Chapter 34
Ayla
The night before felt like a blur. I was ashamed that Alessio and the others had found me this way. They had to see me in my moment of weakness.
Alessio continued to ask me questions. He coaxed m
e to reveal the truth. His words felt like they were coming under water and my body felt like it was floating.
He begged. He cajoled. He sounded desperate. He told me I was worth more than I thought, yet I couldn’t bring myself to respond.
He was wrong. I was worth nothing. I was a whore. Dirty. Used. I was just an empty vessel.
His words hurt because he was lying.
I wanted to scream. I hated him. Stop lying, please. My heart was aching. It hurt so much. I didn’t bring happiness. I was not light. I was darkness. Nobody cared. I was on my own.
Alessio bent closer and I felt his warmth next to my hand that laid on the bed. His hand was close to mine. So close yet not touching.
“Can I touch you?”
I went rigid. No. He couldn’t touch me. I didn’t think I could bear a man’s touch at that moment. Or anyone’s touch.
It felt like I would crumble and fade away in the air.
Please leave. Please go. Leave me.
I heard him blow out a sharp breath and he stood up, pushing the chair away. He was leaving.
“I just want you to know that you are loved…you matter. To Maddie. To Lena,” Alessio murmured gently.
His words felt like sharp knife against my heart.
Closing my eyes, I gave him only silence. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.
His words hurt. I wished they didn’t, but his lies broke my already fractured heart. I trusted him, yet he fed me lies.
As he walked away, his footsteps faded away until I didn’t hear him anymore. When I heard the door close, I sighed and kept my eyes shut.
I rubbed my fingers over the bumpy bandages and my nose tingled as the tears started to form behind my close eyelids. I never thought I would take such a step. I didn’t even remember it happening. I was so lost, so far gone that I didn’t realize what I was doing.
But I remember the silence that I felt when I lost consciousness. It felt nice. Empowering. It felt like I was in charge of my emotions for once. However, I knew it was wrong.
As a single tear slipped down the side of my face, I pulled the covers up under my chin. Turning to my left side, I faced the window but still kept my eyes closed. Swiping the trail of tears away, I sighed and let the tiredness take over my body.