Burn The Devil (MAFIA GXG)

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE (edited)

I came to my senses as I pressed the help button near her bed. I craved a moment with her, especially after everything that has happened, our conversation flowing for the past few hours. "The doctor will be here in a second," I said as I rubbed my fingers on her hand. The pain in my chest, replaced by a soft beat.

Our attention falls onto the sweet doctor walking in, a happy expression displayed on his face as he looks at the awake Carmilla. "Good evening, Madam Lambert, I'm doctor Sinclair" he introduces himself, walking up to her bedside. Carmilla nods in response, acknowledging his words as she glances back at me quickly.

"When can I get out of here?" Carmilla questions bluntly, her sweet and tender tone seeming to be reserved only for me. The doctor chuckles at her impatience, stepping forward as he looks at me, presumably checking to see if I think she is being serious, not realizing that when Carmilla says something, she means it. I will pray for his sanity. "What's so funny?" she interrogates, her bruised brow raised at his amusement at his chuckle.

"Carmilla" I whisper in a scold. Ugh, this woman. How can she be so irritated by a chuckle when she is this vulnerable?.

"It's alright" he diffuses with an awkward smile, wishing for the weird vibe to fade away. I don't think he expected that attitude. "Unfortunately, you're not leaving anytime soon" he explains, his lips pinched as he clutched to his folder, watching Carmilla's expression flatten.

Carmilla rolls her eyes as she breathes in impatiently, shifting up a little to get a better angle to look at him. "That's not an answer, I've got work to get back to" she retaliates, glaring at him. I look over at the uncomfortable doctor, my eyes letting him know I apologize for her behavior.

"You're looking at, at least one more week of bed rest and observation, but you're not going back to your usual activity until about six weeks" he explains as her eyes widen.

"Six weeks?!" she exclaims. "That's not possible" she rebukes by lifting her arm up, resulting in her letting out a pained cry before she placed it back down in a grunt.

He sighs deeply, turning to me for a moment before turning back to look at her. "Your body needs time to recover, Ms. Lambert, you unfortunately went into cardiac arrest last night. Would you like me to list out all the injuries you've endured?" he questions rhetorically.

"Yes." Carmilla responds bluntly. His pupil danced between me and Carmilla, taken aback by her straight-forwardness.

"Uh, okay. " he stutters as he opens his folder, clearing his throat as his eyes flash through the paperwork. "You've suffered a laceration to your abdomen from blunt force trauma, you have multiple cuts that have required stitching. Let's see what else.. Oh, you have ecchymosis all over your face" he carries on, "that stands for the bruising all over your face." He's starting to sound a little condescending now. "You have 2 rib fractures that were caused by your friend doing C.P.R. and the most concerning injury is your shoulder. The shoulder contains the subclavian artery, which feeds the brachial artery, the main artery of the arm, as well as the brachial plexus, the large nerve bundle that controls arm function." he explains. "And to remind you, madam Lambert, your heart stopped, legally we can not let you leave any time soon, not when we look at everything you've endured" he finishes, his tone softening as he halts his words, waiting for Carmilla to take it all in.

Carmilla rolls her eyes, irritated at his endless babble, and honestly, so am I. "Get to the point, Clair" she declares abruptly. I let out an internal giggle at the nickname she's given him, quickly piercing my lips to not let it escape.

"It's Sinclair," he corrects. I bite my lip in foreboding, this isn't going to end well. She may be bedridden but she's still Carmilla.

"Come here, I want to tell you something." she voices calmly. "I don't want Jane to hear" she explicates in a whisper. Hesitantly, Dr. Sinclair steps closer, unsure of what she might want to say away from my ears. "A little closer, I can't move much, you know" she urges sarcastically, bending her index finger as indication.

Slowly, he tilts his head down to get closer to her lips. In an instant, Carmilla's leaning forehead bashes into Sinclair's temple harshly. A loud thud is heard as their heads collide, making me flinch. Why did he fall for it? I freeze still to witness his reaction, completely taken aback by what just happened. His head falls back in pain as he places his palm over it, attempting to ease the pain. A shocked quiet follows as he wrinkles his face in agony, my eyes glaring daggers into Carmilla as her lips twitch in a smile.

"Don't piss me off," she states calmly. "Continue, and this time get to the point. Clair" she taunts with a conniving smile. I swallow down all the words I should probably say, but can't. I may love her but this Carmilla makes me want to crawl into a hole and hide, not wishing to be on the receiving end of her temper.

I watch him catch his balance and straighten his shoulders once again. It must hurt to be the victim of a bedridden woman. With a visible lump forming on his temple, he lifts the fallen folder off the floor, adjusting his shoulders to regain some pride. "Your injury resulted in us having to perform life-saving surgery. We succeeded in fixing the blood vessel." he mumbles out swiftly, making Carmilla nod.

"Is that everything?" she asks.

"Yes ma'am" he responds rapidly, his eyes focused on the tile floor. A pool of guilt starts leaking in my body, I should have stood up for him. I can't let her bully him, but what can I say? I'm lucky enough to be alive, let alone stand against her. I simply can't.

"Thank you, doctor," I utter softly. Her eyes turn to me, her glare letting me know to not say anything more. She knew i felt bad, her ability to read my every thought making me feel as though I'm made of glass, completely on display for her to read me like a book.

"You can go now" she dismisses him. He swiftly turns and retreats out of the room, leaving us in reflection of what has just happened. "What a fucking idiot" she mutters, looking over at the empty bedside table. "You wouldn't have a cigarette would you?" she inquires casually. How can she act like nothing has happened? As if she's not made me worry endlessly for the past four days. As if she didn't just die again.