ARIEL
I am tired.
My entire body feels like a ton of bricks are strapped onto it and I am forced to run a mile. When infact I'm wearing nothing but hospital gown and I have been laying down for hours.
The sun is brightly shining into the room, waking me up from my first night in the hospital room. I squint my eyes open and look to my right to see Griffins large form occupying the chair still.
He's awake, staring at his phone.
"You've been sitting there all night?" I ask him. His eyes quickly look up at me, scanning me from head to toe.
He has been planted in that chair beside my bed for an equal amount of hours that I have been in here. He doesn't get up when the nurses come to do something or when the doctor comes to check on me. And he didn't get up when his family came to see me, or my parents and grandfather or Ava.
"Sí." He stands, coming closer. "Are you feeling okay? Do you need the doctor?" He asks.
"No I'm fine. You should go home Griffin. Get some rest." I frown at his tired looking face.
"No." His immediate response is a little stubborn.
"Why not?" I squint. "I am literally stuck to this bed, I can't really move much. If you went home and slept for a while, you wouldn't miss much." I make a 'duh' face.
His lips quirk.
"I am not leaving you here alone, micetta. Stop trying to convince me." He husks.
"But you look tired, and I feel selfish that you have to stay." I reason.
"Baby, I am choosing to stay. I won't be able to get even a second of rest away from you. Just relax." He says.
"Okay. I have to go to the bathroom, move." I sit up, taking out the few wires of the monitors like the nurse taught me if I ever need to get up. Besides the slight pinch near my ribs, nothing hurts too bad.
I squeal when suddenly strong arms slide under me and pick me up.
"Griffin!" I scold. "I can walk the four steps it take to get to the bathroom." I complain.
"Well, you don't need to if I can carry you." He gently puts me down right at the door. "Shout if you need something." He opens the door for me.
My cheeks burn at his odd behavior. He's acting like-- himself. Two years ago. That makes my heart squeeze.
I do my business, washing my face and brushing my teeth with the tiny toiletries in the bathroom, trying to ignore my bruised lip, then step out to see him standing right where I left him.
"You're okay?" He asks. I just nod. He picks me up again, carrying me to bed.
"Really?" I ask, my tone bored.
"Yes." He confirms, gently laying me down and covering me up with the sheet.
He brushes away my hair from my face and his eyes linger on the bruise by my lip, and they become sad. Well, his version of sad.
"Does it look bad?" I ask him. His looks into my eyes and shakes his head.
"No. I am just so fucking sorry I let this happen." His whisper in pained.
"It's not your fault." I squeeze his hand that is still in mine.
~
A few hours pass by of just us, sitting in the room, looking at our phones, talking now and then. It was boring, thank goodness it was almost time to sleep.
"When can I go?" I ask him while he sits in his designated chair.
"Baby it's only been a day. I don't think they would let you go that soon." His exhausted eyes meet mine. I pout out of no fault of my own. "I'm sorry." He pushes my hair back gently.
The colony of butterflies in my stomach are let loose every few seconds, fluttering their pesky little wings against my heart.
Griffin has never been so open with saying he's sorry. Yesterday was the first time I heard him say it, and he hasn't stopped since.
"It's not your fault." I say again.
"It is." His words make me look at him.
"What?"
"It's my fault. All of this. He wouldn't have tortured you like some low grade imbecile if he didn't want something on me. He wouldn't have lied then, it's all because he hates me, and I aggravated him to hate me more." His jaw clenches.
"What do you mean?" I ask him, a shiver of cold runs up my spine.
"I ruined any chance he had with the Mafia two years ago, and this past week, every starin on us meant I was that much more angry at him." Griffin angrily grunts. "So I planted drugs in his office and got him fired, and black listed. He did this to you--" He swallows hard, eyes trailing down my form painfully. "Because I couldn't help but ruin him." His strained words cause my heart to clench.
God. I close my eyes, feeling the tears slide down my face.
"I'm sorry." His whispered apology makes me frown harder. "I know I have done unspeakable things these past few weeks and that you probably hate me for it. But I promise I want to be better for you. I want to make it up to you." He swallows. "If you let me." His eyes look into mine, searching.
But I look away. Because whatever he can find in there, I am not certain that's how I feel.
There is nothing I hate more than being uncertain. Despite his apologies and how bad he feels, he still hurt me so much. He threatened me and made me feel the lowest I have ever felt. I don't know how to forgive that.
"Can you turn out the lights? I want to sleep." I whisper, dismissing the conversation.
His face falls, dread etching his usually sharp features. But he turns them off and I face away from him, squeezing my eyes shut in the hopes to get some sleep.
