Caim

24 | calm before the storm

Caim's POV

Sitting in this uncomfortable chair for three days had negative consequences, the first of which was back cramps, but what made it worse were the thoughts racing through my mind. All of the negative emotions I was enduring at the time were taking their toll, but I managed to keep them at bay. I've never been the type of person who wears their emotions on their sleeves; instead, I bottle them up and swallow the harsh reality of life. It has always served as a safeguard.

But when I saw my grammy laying in her own blood, I had no idea what was going on around me; all I could think about was my grandmother, who supported me despite her opposition to the Mafia. She resented my father for announcing me as the next heir to our Mafia organisation, but she never showed any hatred for me. She cleaned my wounds when I came home battered and bruised and never asked any question, why or how I got them.

She is my kryptonite and I don't know what I would do if something happened to her. My mother was always annoyed that she could never get my attention, but my grandmother could. She would always try to convince me that grammy would leave me one day and she would be the one to take care of me because she is my mother, she gave birth to me, but irony struck and she died.

I've lived my whole life without being loved, and the only source of warmth for me was her, her soft wrinkly hands caressing my cheeks when I'd get punched, or how she'd always make me soup when I was hurt. Her soft eyes were the only definition of love, and I knew that whoever came my way, if my grammy was with me, I could fight them.

"Mr Caim, may I speak with you for a moment?" my reverie was interrupted when the doctor tapped me on the shoulder. He appeared slightly dishevelled, with his hair all over the place and a crooked stethoscope hanging around his neck.

I chose not to answer back and simply nodded. He returned my nod and began walking toward his office. I followed him silently, my feet aching from the long corridors, and worry for grammy clawed at my mind.

I wish Mili was here.

My subconscious was betraying me once more; I've had this thought since the day she left that office and disappeared from my life for good. I knew it would hurt her, but the stress of keeping her safe and not having her point out what I was doing was driving me insane, and it just came out of my mouth. I've never felt more guilty or remorseful than when I said those terrible words to her. I'd be lying if I said what I told her wasn't a big lie; she became my distraction, but not in the way that I'd use her to get my mind off my business; she was the addictive distraction, the one who would pop into my mind when I was in the middle of a very important meeting or when I was tired or flustered, and I'd think of her to get my mind off my miseries.

We entered the same white room, which had a wooden table in the centre and all the folders neatly stacked on the side. I'm back on the same brown leather seat I was on when I was here with Mili.

"I wanted to warn you about something, Mr Caim." Before folding his hands and resting them on top of the table, the doctor said. My anxiety increased, and I noticed my hands sweating slightly. I shoved my hands in my pocket to wipe away the wetness, a habit I developed during my early Mafia days.

What is it" my voice came out strong but it still held the fear which I didn't want to seep in.

"Mrs Salvatore has developed some clots in her legs, which may dissolve if she wakes up soon, but if she does not wake up in 2 weeks, we will have to perform surgery to remove those clots." I don't know what to think, I became numb. What the doctor said was not what I wanted to hear. I just want her to be alright.

"Is there any way to speed up her waking up process?" I questioned, hoping that there was a way to wake her up.

"There is, but I'm not sure if it's effective because if we force her out of her coma, she could have a brain haemorrhage and die, so we have to be cautious. As for the surgery, it's still risky to perform surgery on her while she's in a coma. We will do our best, but please try to bring her back into consciousness." I was willing to go to any length, even if it meant begging in front of the damn god to keep my grammy safe. I know this is a tough position, and we don't have security, but I would help her.