Vote Then Read: Volume II

by Lauren Blakely

  “Iris?”

  “I am the messenger; you are the messiah.”

  With wide eyes, I panic as she fearlessly picks up the stick and hauntingly drifts closer to the water.

  “No,” I scream as she lifts the instrument. “No! I cannot save us!”

  “Welcome to zero choice, Salvatore.”

  With one swoop, she crashes the metal into the water, flooding the room. It doesn’t stop rising, higher with every passing moment. The water is untamable.

  “Help me!”

  “I am the key; you are the lock.”

  Floating in the wreckage of the room, I dodge the furniture, one by one, as I pray to rescue the girl. “Help me! I cannot do this alone!”

  In an instant, the water diminishes, and everything crashes to the floor. Broken pieces and fragments of the lesson fill my mind as I howl, “I cannot fight this war alone!”

  “I am the messenger; you are the messiah. And you must surrender to the failure. It is the only way you will ever succeed, Raniero. Give up the idea of winning. Don’t fight the failure. Let it pass through you and take the gift so that you can win.”

  Instantly, I don’t just hear the words, but I listen to them—each one—as they weigh with minuscule details. “The idea of winning…”

  Her screeching laughter echoes in the dampened room. We are soaked, she and I, and reborn by our own choosing as we stride closer to one another. “You will never win merely by the idea; you have to prove it. So, prove it, boy. Show me what you got.”

  “Should I just let her die?” I ask, gazing down at the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. They shimmer like sapphires trapped within the glass. She is fragile. She is delicate. She is the perfect doll.

  Lifting her hands between us, she implores, “No, you should be her voice when she has none.”

  “And what about you?” I ask, laying my palms beneath hers. I’m her warrior, set to defend her pedestal. “What do you do?”

  “I’m going to wipe the sweat from your brow. I’m here. I’m always here. You don’t know it yet, but I would appreciate it if you would get on with it. Time is quickly passing.”

  “You’re telling me to plan to fail.”

  “I’m telling you to hurry the fuck up and stop being hardheaded. Bend and sway and buckle and fucking swim! And when you don’t reach the shore, you keep swimming. You swim harder. You swim faster. But in no uncertain terms, do you ever give up.”

  “You are the messenger with the key, and I am the messiah with the lock.”

  The rumble beneath our feet cracks the ground. The pressure builds, shooting the roof off in a slew of hot, molten lava. “I’m the fire.”

  “And I am the water.” Her spirit lifts, flying higher as she sasses, “Come and get it, badass.”

  “I’m on my way, ma’am.”

  23. War on Drugs

  Thursday, December 30

  2 days before…

  “Are you insane?” Jack asks the next morning in his professional attire. “If we take her off the pain meds, she will suffer.”

  “At least, she will be here,” I bark off, feeling taken advantage of because of my age. They think I’m gullible and naive, conforming and complacent, but I am her husband. And though at times it may seem like I maintain a flagrant stance on our nuptials, nothing could be further from the truth.

  Kaci is my responsibility, and I must fight for her—that is why she chose me—because she knew I would be a rabid, uncaring son-of-a-bitch when it came to dealing with her treatment and providers. I would not put her through hell, but lift her to the heavens. And dare anyone to cross me. “You know her, do you think she wanted to go out like this?”

  His growing irritation with my request ignites in his eyes. He had a plan to keep her doped up and silent, and I’m derailing that agenda. “Lucas…”

  “Don’t fucking Lucas me!” I angrily bite, sinking my teeth in and rendering him motionless. “I’m not asking you to take her off all of them,” I plead her case because she can’t. “I’m asking you to at least give her the option. If she says she is in pain, she will tell you. But you have to remember who she is—who Kaci is—stop treating her like a friggin corpse before she is one!” My hands rapidly fly about as I throw a shit fit. “She isn’t dead! She isn’t just any patient! She is my wife! And she’s a helluva a fighter who deserves to be heard!”

  Crossing his arms, Jack lifts a finger to his chin. “I’ll bring her out of it—some.” His unhappy gaze hits me, and I give a menacing grin that provides a don’t fuck with me attitude. “One whine and she is down again.”

  “Fine!” Raising my hands high, I shrug it off as I pace between the windows and the bed. “How long before I can talk to her?”

  He adjusts the pump and makes notations on her chart. “A few hours, but this goes against my better judgment, Raniero.”

  “You know…there was a time when I told you I didn’t want your fucking cocktail and you gave it to me anyway.”

  Flailing under my snapping jaw, he escapes and rebukes, “You were raped in an alleyway!”

  “Still,” I calmly reply, standing up for myself and Kaci. “I didn’t want it. And you’ve got her so doped up. She can’t decide.”

  “This is not good palliative care.”

  “Neither is keeping her so far gone,” I hiss, knowing I have the legal upper hand. “I want my wife.”

  “And I want her comfortable in her last hours!”

  I come back slinging words like a rain of bullets, shooting everything that stands in my wake. “She is Kaci Hope; she has never been comfortable. It isn’t a place she seeks. You ought to know that. She craves the dirt, ache, and trauma. She believes failing elevates to success and imparts decency through her deception, but she does not do incognizance. Her cerebral approach to everything she does has led her to this point. In case you lapsed, she’s fucking brilliant, but come to think of it—do you even know my wife?”

  Knowing he will not win, Jack retreats. “You’ll have her in a few hours. Good luck with that,” he snidely remarks, heading for the door. “But remember who is torturing her, Sal. You are prolonging the inevitable because you don’t want to give her up.”

  “… Are you leaving?”

  With a brief look around the room, he nods. “Yeah, I’m going home. I’m no longer needed here. It’s clear there is a new man in charge.”

  “I always was,” I maintain, holding my ground. “You had your fucking chance, and you damn blew it. She would have killed to have you by her side, but you walked away. Just like you are doing right now!” I must look like a crazed man. “You are proving good at abandoning those who love you.”

  He walks closer and leans down to place a kiss on her head. I snarl, growling inside.

  Step away from my wife, you bastard.

  Or I will maul and tear your flesh from the bone.

  Keeping his lips on her longer than necessary, Jack says a final goodbye as I sense he’s praying. Lifting up, I see the tears in his eyes as he whispers, “I love you.” He glances at me. “I love you, too.”

  Not enough.

  Let words define, not excuse.

  Do. Better.

  Speak with your actions.

  He slithers away, beaten and broken down, without another word as I embrace the role of husband to the fullest. The crown of his Dominance passes on to me—Master Raniero to his Mrs. I’m her guardian, her keeper, her protector.

  I sit down and wait. I drink the coffee the day nurse, Tiffany brings, and then I decide to shower.

  In the confines of the stall, I let the hot water pour over me as I remove the armor of our war and cry with my forearms pressed on the tiles above my head. “Lord, help me. Please give me some guidance. Give me a sign. Something.”

  I cannot imagine a life without Kaci in it. Through it all, she has been my guide, lighting my way along a darkened, spooky path where monsters lurk. She has given me the tools. And now, it is my turn to pick up the hammer.

  �
��Looks like I got here just in time.” Jaid’s sweet voice fills the bathroom. “I’ve got clothes.”

  “Oh! Thank god! You are here! Kerris and I had it out. He left.”

  “Left?” Her blue eyes open wide as I pull back the curtain. “Like left left?”

  “I believe he returned to Austin,” I inform with an authoritative tone. “I want her brought out of the vegetative state they are keeping her in for ease, and he disagrees. We are at war over drugs.”

  “… Shit.” Her lips twitch as her eyes dart around the bathroom. “What can I do?”

  “Get Kari here.”

  “Okay. Is she back in England?”

  I offer a frown as I don’t know. “Call her. I don’t know where she is, but I know she is Kaci’s BFF and asked for her to be here in the end.”

  “Is this the end?”

  “I think so,” I mutter, rinsing the soap off.

  Coming closer to the shower, she whispers, “Have you talked to Amber?”

  “Yeah.” I turn off the water and grab a towel. “Don’t even get me started.”

  “She should be here,” she replies, scanning over the droplets on my olive skin. “She is your drug.”

  Running my fingers through my hair, I gaze in the mirror and snicker, “That cannot turn into a war. War implies battle. And when it comes to my relationship with Amber, if anyone crosses me, there will be a massacre.”

  By noon, Kaci is awake and being her typical, somewhat annoying self. Any hope of her keeping the damn oxygen mask on proved futile hours ago. Thankfully, Linda is a cardiac bitch nurse on loan from Hades or the other unit. She negotiated with Kaci like a damn pro, and now she is dealing with the nasal cannula.

  It's always busy, and I'm honestly starting to wonder how anyone ever rests. Her oncologist, Dr. Morgan Weathers, has brought in another specialist to consult on her case since he’s lost his co-conspirator in Dr. Jack Kerris.

  Dr. Bradley Cho is an overwhelmingly positive person, but not concerning Kaci. Without an emotional attachment to her like Kerris or Weathers, his answers prove thoughtful and almost, diplomatic. He's willing to follow her lead on medication unless she becomes incapacitated and unable to make decisions. She asked about her DNR and spoke about her final wishes, but without being overly optimistic, he did acknowledge she might walk out of here.

  “Death is a strange entity. I've seen people, who scientifically should have passed in months, live to see years. The numbers aren't the whole story, nor are they the defining verdict. They are tools, much like your mind and mentality, so don't give up. We aren't going to cure your cancer, but your time is yours. I'm not going to put a time stamp on you. You knew you had six months—six months ago.”

  She responded well to his hippie youthfulness, and I felt good about the conversation. The only disconcerting bit was his continued use of Sir with me. I'm sure it was only out of respect, but at times, I feel too young to be a Sir in the context of adulthood.

  Together, they tried to chart a course—minimal pain meds, but the use of muscle relaxers, sleeping, and anti-anxieties if necessary, no feeding tube, no extreme measures. Dr. Cho wants her comfortable and happy, but he's willing to let her lead and that—regaining of some control of her death—proved priceless in her smiles.

  After a few crackers and some sweet tea she demanded, we sit staring at one another. “Do you know how much I'm going to miss you?”

  “Probably as much as I'm going to miss you.”

  “You know it's not the dying thing that bothers me, but the fact that we won't be in the same place.”

  “We will be eventually. You gotta wreak havoc in heaven and make that bitch yours. Get her all prepped for me.”

  “I already prepped one of your lives. You think I wanna do another?” Her giggle erupts, and I grin, holding her hand.

  “You love me,” I say, giving her puppy dog eyes.

  “Yeah yeah,” she says, holding my hand. “I want out of here.”

  “Hold on. I’ll go see what we can do about that.”

  Hopping up quick, I head out to the nurse’s station and play the charms on Linda. “Please?”

  Minutes later, I’m cracking open the door with a glorious win in our favor.

  “Oh my god!” Kaci squeals, wiggling her toes under the blanket. “That is a wheelchair!”

  “It is, but you can only be gone for a half hour.”

  “Why?”

  Removing the sheet, I spot the bruising on her legs. She acknowledges my concerned look with a blink and presses her finger to her lips.

  Keep my secret. Don’t fuck me over. You are driving the proverbial getaway car.

  “You okay?” She nods as I help her up. Her legs are wobbly as I pick her up and deposit her gently into the chair. “Fuck this. Here take a blanket. Cover. Quick.”

  Yes, I’m harboring my wife.

  But I’m innocent. I know nothing. Smirks.

  “You have blood work in an hour,” I say, carefully moving her bags of saline and assorted goodies.

  “Like they’ll be on time,” she cattily remarks. “That means I’ll see them in three hours. Such a waste of time. I want to go outside. On we go!”

  I drape my jacket over her shoulders. “Shall we pop wheelies?”

  “Yes!” She laughs as we exit the room and Linda offers up a curt stare. Kaci returns the look with a spiteful gaze and a middle finger as I turn the other way. “Fucking cunt.”

  “Damn, take no prisoners, Kace!”

  “Only you.”

  We manage to get downstairs without event. Once outside, the air is damp and breezy, but she wants this, so we do it. “You going to pull the car around?”

  “No,” I snicker, pulling her close to a bench and taking a seat. “Not getting that much leeway with me.”

  “Shit,” she says with a crooked grin, digging around in my jacket. “I was hopeful. You got anything yummy?”

  With our lighthearted banter, I tease, “Mrs. Raniero, are you asking me for illegal substances?”

  “Duh… You’re my dealer,” she cajoles, touching my knee. “You take care of me.”

  “Inside front pocket.”

  “You are my savior,” she beams, pulling the vape pen out. “How do you turn this fucking thing on?”

  Seeing Dale Archer loitering near the edge of the building, I twist the knob and hand it back to her.

  If nothing else, she’ll be funny as fuck when she goes after Linda the Evil Eye. I got to hand it to these nurses; they put up with some shit. I need to make a point to fuck a nurse at some point. I add to a fast-growing bucket list in my mind. I say fast because Kaci wants me to complete her bucket list, too, and hers is ten times the size of mine. I swear if the girl had a “tool,” she’d be trouble.

  “You sure I can’t just take this inside with me?”

  “No, I don’t think Linda would find that amusing.”

  Taking a hit, she snorts. “I don’t find Linda very comical either.” She scans around the park-like setting, though no other people are sitting in this weather, aside from those who have a purposeful destination. “You know I don’t want to go back in there.”

  “I know, but you have to.”

  “You should know if something happens and you don’t want to take me back to the loft, I won’t be mad at you,” she mutters, avoiding my gaze. I rub the flesh of my knuckles aimlessly as I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to think about my wife dying. I understand I don’t have a choice, but imagining a world without Kaci Hope right now is just too painful.

  “You ready?”

  “If I have to be,” she says, tucking the vape away as I wheel her to the door. “Take me back to the Death Ward.”

  “Kacilyn,” I scold as we pass over the threshold. “Don’t say that. I have a present for you upstairs.”

  “You mean besides puncture wounds and grouchy old douche bags?”

  I snicker as she flips me off and I snap her finger between my teeth. “There’s my boy.”


  Always, baby. Always.

  Over her dinner of baked chicken, green beans, salad, and lemon pudding, we sit with Jaid and swap stories. Kaci didn’t eat but was thrilled Jaid was here—more for my sake than hers it seemed. Our purpose and other dealings firmly bond us, but we don’t think about that as we find joy in just being.

  Things are smooth, secure, and light if we ignore the barrage of caregivers and the multitude of lines jetting out of her body until Kaci whispers, “Are you going to take care of him?”

  Jaid nervously blinks towards me as the words strike her hard. “Of course!”

  “If God forbid something happens to him, you need to save Chicago.”

  Leaning closer, Jaid takes her hand. “I promise you. I will save Iris.”

  These two have no idea they are biological sisters, and part of me wants to tell them. Part of me believes they deserve the truth. But the fallout could potentially be catastrophic, and I cannot risk our already precarious position. Not so much because of Kaci as her fate is already sealed and set in stone, but Jaid. She isn’t done yet. Her game isn’t over. But news like this is psychologically volatile.

  I stare down at the ring and offer them their moment. I briefly fear things could get weird quick with all the touching and loving transpiring between them. They are close, but I have knowledge which could detour that.

  What would Kaci want?

  The tension is too high for me to handle. “Can you stay with her for a few?”

  “Absolutely,” Jaid replies, squeezing my hand. I kiss Kaci on the forehead and make a beeline for the door. I cannot get out of the room fast enough.

  When I’m safe outside the door, I take a moment and breathe as I try and approach it from another angle, but the only solution ends with someone getting badly hurt. Tears well up in my eyes as I don’t know what to do. We are running out of time. Time Jaid could spend with her sister—loving or hating her.

  I spot Dale lurking again.