__________
You locked yourself in the bathroom,
Lying on the floor when I break through.
I pull you in to feel your heartbeat,
Can you hear me screaming? Please don't leave me
__________
*the whole fucking song, and I am crying sorry*
"Mr. Danes..." Noah comes in barging through my office door, barely catching his breath.
"Haven't I told you a hundred million times to knock before entering?!" I yell at him and look up, ready to give him yet another lecture, but his eyes make me pause.
He's crying. I've never seen Noah cry.
"What's wrong?" I ask, standing up, the pen from my hand clattering on the ground.
"It's Amyra, Mr. Danes."
**********
She tried to kill herself. She sliced her carotid, just like she told me to. She lost so much blood. So much. When I walked through the doors of our medical wing, I saw Amyra, covered in a hospital gown as wires extended from her to different monitors behind. Her tan skin was looking so pale, a sheen of cold sweat on her body. A bag of blood was her only lifeline, and the monitor on the screen showed me she was hanging on.
Hang on, Amyra.
**********
"What the fuck do you mean by 'coma'?!" I yell at Barnett, and I can see Noah flinch at my tone from the corner of my eye.
"She lost too much blood, Mr. Danes. She went into hypovolemic shock, and her heart almost gave out. Mr. Michaels got to her in time. If he was just a few minutes late, I might not have been able to save her. She's hanging on right now, without a ventilator or any life support, but her organs are tired, sir. Her body is not ready to wake up, I'm sorry," he says in a low tone, and I turn around, masking my shock and sorrow. I get out of the medical room he put Amyra in and sit down on the sofa in the hall.
Sorrow.
Why?
What did I do that was so bad that she resorted to death?
Why did she try to kill herself?
My head hangs in my hands as questions bombard my head. I can almost feel my eyes well up, but I pull back my tears. I haven't cried since I was eighteen, I won't start now. I can't start now.
Anger.
How dare she try to die?!
I can make her life so miserable, without a way out. I can make her realize how lucky she was when she tried to give up.
I was certainly the best person who could capture her, especially when she's the daughter of the Indian mafia.
How dare she?!
My face morphs into a frown, and I want to punch or kill someone. I stand up to make my way to the shooting range, but look up to see Noah walking towards me.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Danes," he says, his eyes teary.
"What for?" I rasp and clear my throat.
"It was my fault, Mr. Danes," he confesses. I almost pounce at him, but I control myself.
"Explain yourself, Michaels," I say coldly.
"I could see that-" he chokes, and looks at his feet. "I could see that she was sad, sir. I could see when she masked her sorrow; like you just did. But I let it go, I thought that she is just feeling detached, or just uncomfortable with us, but I never thought she would go so far. Mr. Danes, she- um-she asked me for a razor. She said that she wanted to shave her arms, but I never thought she would go as far as suicide. I'm sorry- I'm so-" he chokes again, a tear flowing down his cheek.
"I know you-" he continues, but I cut him off.
"It's not your fault, Noah. If anything, it's mine. Once I knew she had nothing to do with how her mafia worked, I should have let her go, but I forced her to work with us instead. She did what she did out of loyalty to her mafia, and perhaps sorrow, but I assume more out of loyalty. If someone captured me and forced me to work with them, I would probably kill my-"
"She's not dead, sir. She can't be," he says, his voice firm.
"Right. She didn't kill herself, I'm sorry. She hurt herself, though. And I don't know if endangering the life of a young, innocent woman like her will ever sit well with me," I say, emotions seeping into my voice. I wait for Noah to say something but he remains silent.
"Very well, then. I am going to go have a nap. You should rest too, it's been a long day, and it's almost 1," I say, and Noah nods.
"Good night, Mr. Danes."
"Night, Michaels."
**********
I wake up too early in the morning, my heart pounding wildly as I think about my nightmare.
Amyra can't die.
I slip on my robe and walk barefoot to the medical wing, the distant beeping of the heart monitor relieving me and growing louder. I open the door and make my way towards Amyra's bed, sitting down on a chair beside it and holding her hand.
Her skin's pale, but her hands are much warmer than before. I gaze up at the monitor, the steady pulse mimicking mine, and I let out a sigh of relief. She's fine. She'll be fine.
"You could have told me, you know?" I rasp out and squeeze her hand. "I wanted to keep you with me, but I am not selfish enough to go against what you wanted. You could have told me you wanted to go back to your asshole brother, Amyra, I would have let you. Hell, I would have dropped you at your mansion. I can't believe you did this, kitten. And I can't help but blame myself for it. It's my fucking fault. I should have let you go the moment I knew you weren't involved," I say, my voice becoming heavier. Her pulse goes a little faster, and I smile. Even in a coma, she is flustered by my words.
"If I didn't know better, I would think you were listening to me, Amyra," I say, smiling. "I didn't even get to know you well, kitten. I need you to come back. I don't know where you learned your witchcraft," I laugh, "... but you have made me feel...love, maybe? For the first time in years, I feel something other than revenge, hatred, spite; you made me feel an attraction towards the light: your light."
"For the first time in years, the surrounding darkness is suffocating me. I want you. I want to hear your obnoxious rambling, see you bite your lip, hear your gasps when I touch you, feel the light you emit everywhere you go. I need you back."
Author's Note:
I know. I know. It was a bad chapter. I might come back to it when I am NOT out of my mind, but make do with what I gave you for now.
QOTD: Do you think that Antony's going to be the way he is right now for the rest of the book?
*cackles with evil intentions*
YOU ARE READING
ＨＩＳ ＡＦＴＥＲＧＬＯＷ - A Mafia Fiction
Lãng mạn"I'll going to have that attitude beaten right out of you, kitten," he seethes, pulling Amyra's body flush against his chest, "and then, you would be begging me for mercy," he whispers lowly. . . . "Antony?" Amyra asks in a questioning tone...
