Toxic and Mine

In the Lap of Silva

I wake up in discomfort, scanning the dark room for an explanation behind my paranoid awakening. My hands are sore, bloodied from clutching my fingers to my palms during another night of nightmares. I reach for my crutches, a reminder of my struggle to walk properly for the past few weeks, and make my way to the bathroom.

I immediately move my legs to the edge of my bed to grab my crutches. It's been a couple weeks and I'm still not able to walk properly. I stand up straight to make my way to bathroom.

The first-floor room I'm in is dimly lit by a single lamp on the table, revealing a full-size bed, a table, a sofa, and a vacant bathroom. Tired, I run my hands under ice-cold water, opting not to wait for it to warm up before wrapping them in fresh bandages. I was tired as I ran my hand over the sink in ice cold water because I didn't have the patience to let it warm up before wrapping it in a fresh bandage.

I've deliberately kept to myself, seeking solitude to escape the scrutiny of others. The discomfort of not being able to walk and feeling like a shadow of my former self has led me to avoid everyone. Despite Michael's reassurance that it's normal to feel down after emerging from a coma, the frustration of my physical limitations haunts me. The silence surrounding me is a deliberate retreat, a way to grapple with the internal battles and challenges that accompany my journey toward recovery.

I had no energy to argue with Lydia who is loving every bit of this. She smiles in my face and makes little slick comments that make me want to slap her. She thinks I'm kidding but I told her, the minute I'm officially back on my feet I'm going to sock her. And even her father won't be able to stop me, I've had enough.

Gradually making my way to the bed, I'm startled when movement catches my eye, causing me to gasp and instinctively step back. The sudden jolt results in the loss of my support. In the dimly lit room, Silva is seated on the sofa, just across from me. His face remains obscured by the darkness, but an overwhelming sense of recognition grips me. The surprise feels as if my heart momentarily stops, and a surge of pain courses through my body as I collapse to the floor.

"You know, it's unbelievable that you've been awake for all this time and this is my first time seeing you." He says finally getting up. "Had it not been for Lydia, I would have remained oblivious."  he confesses.

I am  unable to resist as he effortlessly lifts me as though I were weightless, seating me on the bed.

"Look at me." He demands but I turn my head away from him.

"Do you not hear me talking to you?" He asks.

"I don't want to talk to you," I respond, my voice choking up instantly. I couldn't hold back the tears, even if I wanted to.

"I'll be the one to do the talking then," he declares, pushing my crutches away and increasing the pressure of his body weight on me. His scent engulfs me, and I struggle to avoid the urge to throw up.

"Do you believe in God?" he inquires. "It doesn't have to be God, maybe a higher power or fate. You understand what destiny means, right? We are meant for each other,  we grew up in similar households and comprehend each other on that level. That's why, despite your hatred for me, you couldn't stay away. It's destiny."I try to get away from him but he holds me tighter. "Didn't I tell you that you're either with me or you die. And when I shot you, it was with intent to kill. You're telling me you don't believe it's fate that you're alive right now? That this isn't a sign that we are meant for each other?"

"You ruined me, I can't walk and you shot me! You want me to overlook that and call it fate?!" I yell out in disbelief.

"I want us to be together. You cannot fathom how many lives are in your hands. You say I don't love you, but you don't know how hard it's been without you. I love you, Nastasia," he confesses.

Oh god.

"Okay." He says finally getting off of me. I take the opportunity to pull myself away from him.

"Can you feel your legs?" He asks me and I slowly nod.

"I didn't want to do this but you were serious about leaving me. I knew you were."

"Because you laced my medication." I tell him flatly. It's the same tune I've being singing constantly.

"I did it for you. But I don't want to dwell on that right now. I need to know now, are you willing to put all that beside us so that we can move forward?"

"Wha—" I halt mid-sentence, gazing at his beautiful yet insane face. He moves closer, grabbing my hands.

"Please," he implores, and it's as if I'm looking at a total stranger. He appears off and disheveled, resembling a lost puppy. In his sick mind, every word he utters holds genuine meaning.

"I want you to stay here with me and I want to make you happy. And I want you to want me the way I want you. But if you want to be free of me, I won't have no choice but to allow it."

"As in you'll let me go home?" I ask but I know damn well that's not what he means.

"Nastasia, your home is here. It's better now that you accept it, unless you want me to finish what I've started," he declares.

"You mean killing me right? Either I be with you or you kill me." I answer letting him know I understand what he's saying. I watch him stand up going back to the sofa to grab his jacket.

"This time, I'll give you the luxury of not feeling any pain. Turn around." He demands directing me to look away from him.

"No." My heart begins pounding.

"Ok."

I scream as he grabs my hair. The sensation of a cold barrel against my temple sends a shock throughout my whole body. I tense up, emotions coursing through me, primarily fear.

"Do you want to leave me?" He asks.

"I don't want to die." I answer but I couldn't move from the firm grip he had on me.

"Do you want to leave me?"

Despite the gravity of the situation and my life hanging in the balance, I remain speechless. The cat and mouse game is over. This is the final ultimatum he presents, yet there is still so much left for me to accomplish before facing my demise.

"No, I don't want to leave you now. Please, get that thing away from me," I ask silently, wiping the tears from my face. I'm hurt and angry about how vulnerable I am, but he doesn't understand how much he just fucked up.

Before he slid his way back into my life, I've been contemplating ways to hurt him just as he hurt me. I've made it clear to him that I would give him hell, and the fact that he believes we can find happiness after attempting to kill me is beyond comprehension.

All I know is that I'm going to have so much fun ruining his life, no matter how long it takes.