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We arrived at the nearby hospital in record time. Dottore had connections here so he easily got us a private room and began examining my hand. As I suspected Pierro had broken three of my fingers.
I sat on the bed looking down at the ground as I waited for him to return.
I could no longer feel the pain in my fingers. The pain tugging at my heart was far worse.
How? That was the question I did not understand.
He was so so far away so how did he end up here?
Time was ticking and with each passing second, I was losing it.
I had to get out of here, but there was no way I could.
If he truly was here for me then the airports would be guarded and he'd bribe the staff to tip me off.
If he was able to find me out on the street he must have known everything by now. Where I lived, what I did, and everything I've done in the last few years.
I laughed.
Of course he knew.
I couldn't help but laugh and laugh. I could feel tears in the corner of my eyes as I held my stomach.
How foolish I was.
To think I even had a chance to begin with.
"Y/N?"
I glanced up from my fit of laughter.
Dottore had returned and was standing in the doorway looking at me suspiciously.
"What's wrong?"
I looked down at the ground a chuckle leaving my lips.
I was so fucked.
So unbelievably fucked.
Dottore quickly approached me and grabbed onto the side of my face.
He pulled my head up to look at him and I stopped laughing.
"Y/N."
I let out a sigh, "I'm sorry. I'm fine."
Dottore frowned and let go of my face. He bent down and took my hand in his. Carefully he traced a finger along my broken ones.
