Rafael

Chapter 30 - Who Are You?

Rafael's POV
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'Get up!'

'Get up!' I shouted at my statuesque body that for some unknown reason refused to obey my direct order.

This had to be a fucking joke.

From the moment I sipped that Scotch, I should've known it had been tampered with.

How embarrassing was it to almost die on your first date with the one girl you wanted everything to be perfect for?

I was poisoned but the million-dollar question was by who, and the billion-dollar one was simply 'why?'

When I found the person responsible I was going to skin them like a cat.

I was certain they didn't want to kill me because if they did I would have been dead.

All of my enemies know that if they ever tried to kill me, then they'd better get it right the first time, or else.

My mind drifted in and out of reality so much, that at times I couldn't tell what was really happening and what was just fantasy.

Sometimes it was easy to differentiate between the two because I knew there was no way Freddie Mercury was here humming 'Somebody To Love' in the room but I think Mia was at some point.

When her hand touched mine, I was certain she was there, it felt too real to be a figment of my imagination.

I could also hear my mother asking the doctor questions about my coma.

This sucked.

It was the worst kind of sleep paralysis.

I couldn't help but feel guilty about the fact that I ruined our first date, hopefully, she wouldn't be adamant about ending things between us.

This was all but a sign from heaven that we shouldn't be seeing each other.

I was in a coma for God's sake.

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I don't know how long I had been unconscious but after a while, which could have been hours or days, I was able to listen to full conversations without agonizingly drifting in and out every second.

I took this as a sign that I was slowly regaining consciousness and that made me feel a little less angry at the fact that I was basically a block of cement for the time being.

Mia was entertaining enough for me.

She had returned after what seemed like days and held my hand in hers, then proceeded to recount all the details of her very uneventful day, going as far as to tell me what exact pan she cooked her scrambled eggs in.

The red one with a dent in the side.

After she finished her story, she read from what I think was a Forbes magazine to keep me abreast with everything going on in the business world.

It was pretty much useless information because it sounded like the magazine was old; they mentioned that Donald Trump was one of the smartest billionaires.

Definitely old.

I appreciated her effort nevertheless because it was the thought that counted.

This also meant she was probably not averse to giving this dating thing with me another try.

"Do you think rats can understand English?"

Silence met her question.

"Oh yeah, you can't answer," She joked and I began to wonder if the woman I was into might be a little, soft in the head.