𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 | machine gun kelly

72

A/N:

Happy 29th of February if you guys celebrate ;) leap years are so surreal for me. Also, listen to the attached song for this chapter?<3

***

Davina Martinez's pov;

"WHO DID THIS TO YOU?" HIS TONE WAS HARD as it hammered through my failing senses.

The agony had completely taken over me now, and I was numb in the dull face of the throbbing pain and my own weakness.

Everything around me was shrouded in the dull colors of mints and whites, from the paint plastering the hospital ward walls to the shapeless scrubs the nurses running into and out of the ward, wore.

I didn't know how long I had been treated-how long I had remained out of my senses until the present. I didn't know how much time had passed, I didn't recall when Colson had brought me here. I only recalled him coming to me in the bathroom, I only recalled him saying something to me before everything went black for me.

And now, here I was, a place I would never have come on my own out of fear for a thousand things. Out of fear of getting caught, out of the fear of endangering both Colson and my son's life if only I sought treatment for a deep incision on my own body. Fear for a thousand questions that would be asked, a thousand answers I wouldn't be able to give.

How had Colson done it? How had he so blatantly brought me here? Didn't he realize what even the slightest mistake could cost us? But then again, it had turned out that Colson had a streak for carelessness, and what better thing to do then to maintain it right?

"Davina," Colson's baritone tore through my thoughts like a power saw, his hard eyes bearing into mine.

I was sitting up straight with my back against pillows, changed into another mint coloured shapeless hospital patient attire that was much too big for me as the neckline was so humongous, it barely covered my shoulders. I felt my injured leg under the sheets, it was bound up so tight it felt like a log connected to my body.

Colson was standing right beside me, his hands thrust into his oversized hoodie pockets, his hood pulled over his head, his messy platinum hair a cloud at his forehead as it barely concealed the sharp intensity of his gaze.

"Who the fuck did this to you?"

His words were sharp and full of blinding anger. His hands were balled into fists and I could see them shake inside his hoodie pockets.

I didn't know what he knew. I had only just opened my eyes a full two minutes ago before he had barged in, pushing past a nurse. And now, there was no one else in this ward but the two of us.

A doctor would've told Colson about the incision. Or perhaps a nurse would've. There was no doubt he knew of the operation performed on my thigh, but did he know what it was for? Could a doctor deduce something like that?

"Fuck, Davina," Colson exhaled, "I swear to god I'll break the next neck I see if you don't answer me."

I blinked, meeting his eyes with a shaking resolve. I couldn't tell him. That was the whole point, because there was no fucking point in telling him. What could he do? He was powerless with that video in Hernandez and Woods' hold. Knowing that he was caught like that would infuriate Colson, it would wreck his peace-his prized sense of self.

Knowing that I had aided an enemy behind his back-the very men he was after, gosh, what would that do to him? He wouldn't listen to anything else after he had heard that. He would listen to no explanations, I knew that, I believed that.