ＨＩＳ ＡＦＴＥＲＧＬＯＷ - A Mafia Fiction

13- My Lucky Number (M)

__________

So, I watch from the dark,

Wait for my life to start

With no beauty in my memory...

__________

When I wake up, my hands are wrapped in bandages and I am sitting on a bed, a blue sheet draped over my body. A steady beeping right beside my head makes me happier, knowing that I'm hearing a sound other than my own voice. I look around to see the black monitor with a green line steadily peaking and panning, a number fluctuating from 70 to 80 printed in red. I smile widely, the colors around me making me happy, but the white blinds in the room make me anxious again.

The white draws me in, the blandness of the color reminding me of everything I've suffered through, and my vision narrows to the white, making me think that seeing colors was just a lucky but elaborate dream.

"Hello, kitten," a dreamy voice interrupts me, and I sit up, alert. 

Antony.

He stands at the foot of my bed, his blue shirt pressed against the golden wood of my bed. I scamper back, unwanted tears freely flowing down my cheeks.

And I scream.

"P-Please, I'm sorry! I-I--I'll tell you all I know, I p-promise! I don't want t-to g--go back there, I'll obey you, p-please, I-"

"Stop," he says in a stern voice making me fold my legs with my arms around me, my body rocking in anxiety.

I sob, "I'm sorry, I won't try to escape- I'm sorry, I-"

"Amyra, don't apologize," he says, and I sob louder.

What else can I do?

"What do you want me to do? Y-You can even k-kill me if you want, just-- no white!" I plead loudly, my bandaged hands shaking in my lap as chew on my lower lip.

"I don't want you to do anything! You can relax, Amyra, I won't hurt you," he confesses, and I look up at him, tilting my head.

He won't hurt me?

But...he did!

He's lying.

"O-Okay," I acquiesce falsely, nodding my head while I look down on my lap intently.

"Would you rather talk to Noee, kitten?" he breathes out, his hands clasped together. As I look up, he abruptly turns away, making me frown.

"Y-Yes, sir," I answer, fiddling with my fingers as I brace for a violent reaction from Antony.

"Okay, I'll get him," he says, and I hear his receding footsteps.

He did not hurt me.

*****

"Hey-o, munchkin!" Noah enters the room with an unmistakable cheer in his step, making me smile involuntarily.

"Munchkin?"

"Yeah, that's my new name for you. You're cute and you're really awesome, so you're a munchkin. My munchkin," he says, smiling and coming towards me, sitting at the edge of my bed. "Can I-" he clears his throat, "Can I hug you, Amyra?" he asks me nervously, making my eyes widen.

A hug?

"Oh, umm, of--you won't hurt me, right?" I question in a quiet voice, making him shake his head, "Never, Amyra. I'll never hurt you."

"Okay, you can hug m-me," I say, looking down at my lap.

"Oh, hon," he says, and moves towards me, wrapping his warm arms around my shoulders and burying his face in the crook of my neck. 

"I would have lost my mind and probably gotten myself killed if it wasn't for you. I'll mi...I love you, you're one of the best friends I've ever had."

I gasp, the memory of our last hug invading me.

 I tried to kill myself after I told him that.

Antony kept me safe and helped me heal in those three weeks.

But...why? Why was I hurt in the first place?

"What happened?' he asks, detaching himself.

"I remember you, No," I reply, smiling lopsidedly. "I remember everything that happened after I was hurt...I remember a man, I can't-"

"Terry Wilson, Amyra," he replies, making my eyes widen.

No.

No, no, no, no, no. 

"P-Please don't let him hurt me, Noah! I promise I'll never cause you any pain, ever again! B-But, p-please, don't let him get to me!" I plead, my hands enveloped in his.

"Honey, he will not hurt you, I promise. You know what? I won't let him see you either, you have my word," he promises, leaning towards me and kissing my forehead.

"T-Thank you, Noee," I reply, smiling.

"I think you need to know some things, hon. Do you want to remember, if you can?" he asks me.

"Umm, yes, I think so."

"Okay. You were in the room for twenty days, Amyra. I am happy to know that Mr. Danes told me to get you out when he saw you screaming."

"S-Screaming?" I question, my mind coming up blank when I try to remember.

"Yeah. Umm, look, you probably don't remember, but you were screaming at someone to get away or something. You were-" he looks down, fiddling with nervousness, "You were probably hallucinating," he blurts out, his expression raw with guilt.

"Why do you feel guilty, No?" I ask him, suddenly remembering how he wanted to break me out.

"I could have given you a way out before you-" he pauses, looking at me.

"Before I tried to kill myself?" I ask him, and he frowns.

"You remember that?"

"I do. What I don't remember, however, is why I tried to do that."

"I am not sure if that's in your or Mr. Danes' best interests," he replies.

"Okay. Okay, I understand. For the matter of your guilt, I must have done something to bring this on myself. I am pretty sure it is not your fault," I say, patting his shoulder.

"Well, you made that clear many times," he smirks.

I smile, laying back on the bed. I look at my hands, my curiosity peaking.

"Do you have a mirror or a phone or something?" I ask enthusiastically, sitting up again.

"I do have a phone, but why do you want it?" he asks, suspicious of me.

"I- Actually, I want to see how I look," I answer, making his eyes widen and glassy.

"You-uh-you don't remember how you look?" he asks, probably in rhetoric as he fishes out his phone and gives it to me before I could answer.

The black screen reflects back my face.

Amyra Ajmera.

That's me.

I press the power button, looking at the date.

May 13.

The day of my freedom.

My lucky number.

Author's Note:

Welcome back, people! So, Amyra's out of the white room. And Noah gave her a really cringy nickname.

I know, right?

So, QOTD: What do you think Noah's trying to hide from Amyra?

Vote and comment, please!