Doctor Engel [A Spanish bestseller now in English!]

CHAPTER 18

It only takes me 50 minutes to reach the hotel. I have to admit that I stepped on the gas pedal slightly more than allowed. I have always liked speed, and this car responds very well. I press the button on the key while I take the stairs and hear the beep that I like so much, behind me.

The receptionist greets with a big smile, I check the area and I don't see Manuel. I get into the elevator and press the button which takes me to Cesar's house. I try to ignore the fact that my hands are sweaty. Five seconds later I'm on the fourth floor. The doors open and I get nervous.

Something catches my attention. There are several broken pots on the floor and the soil is scattered everywhere. Two broken glasses and drops of blood are in the hallway. My nerves stand on end when I discover the orthopedic collar that Cesar had been carrying only a few hours ago, thrown in a corner. I run through the hallway imagining the worst, completely terrified.

Finally I make it to the door and I can see that it is half open. I open it fully with a hard push and it bounces back against the wall, making a loud noise. There's more blood on the floor, I go to the living room and it looks like the aftermath of an earthquake. The chairs have been thrown on the floor, the cushions from the couch are scattered everywhere, and along with them, pieces of a vase. I think I'm going to faint when I see him.

'Cesar! Cesar!' I run up to him, he is sitting on the kitchen floor with his back to me. 'Are you okay?' he doesn't move.

My soul hangs in the balance. He is alive but he's not moving, he turns when I call him. I get closer and I see his head hanging low, he's looking at something between his hands, but I don't know what it is. I finally discover it is the top a bottle. He lifts his head and I can see his eyes. They are very red.

'You shouldn't be here. Go away,' he says with contempt.

'Cesar, I...'

'Go!' he says again, this time almost screaming.

'I just want to talk, I feel that I owe you an apology.'

'You owe me nothing!' he tries to stand up, he's having a hard time but he manages to do it. He drags the bottle with him and I notice it's whiskey. He takes a long slug.

He walks up to me and I step back, he's very drunk.

'We need to clarify some things,' I insist.

'We have nothing to talk about and there's nothing to clarify,' he says while still getting closer to me. He's angry and I understand it.

That horrible smell of alcohol brings back bad memories for me. I lower my gaze and I noticed his clothes are stained with blood. I look for the reason, and find it in a temporary fabric bandage that is around his hand. I gather all my courage and stop avoiding him.

'Give me your hand,' I tell him, swallowing. I extend my hand to him to encourage him to do so.

He stops and looks at me, twisting his head slightly. He frowns, suggesting that he doesn't understand my intentions. He takes another long swig from the bottle.

'Come on, give me your hand, I want to see what you've done,' I try to hide my trembling voice, I don't want him to find out that I'm afraid of his state of drunkenness. Memories of bad experiences are trying to come into my mind again.

'It's nothing,' he says avoiding me.

'I didn't ask you, I'm telling you to give me your hand, I will be the one to judge,' without further ado he obeys like a good boy. All my fear fades when I feel his touch.

I raise the fabric very slowly, I don't want to hurt him, and I see the damage. He has several cuts all over his hand, three of them on the knuckles are quite deep. He must have broken the glasses with his fist.