The Death of Me | A mafia story

Chapter 49 - I am here to make a deal

"If you break my heart, you will find yourself inside."
— Atticus

This quote fits them so perfectly!

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Alex's POV

Life is like an unwritten book, where you get to be the star of your own story, crafting it day by day.

And like any other book, as you travel through the pages, it's the highs and lows that keep you - the reader - enthralled, making the tale worth telling.

When you hear stories of such sort, they stick to your mind in a way. The bad moments, the troubles and the twists are the ones that get stored in the long-term memory. The happy moments make you smile as you read through but they never stick, for happiness is a quite emotion that doesn't make a fuss in its wake.

The realization that flashed in her eyes at the name I just mentioned, confirmed my theory.

He was a man with a story worth telling. A story she couldn't forget even after all these years.

"You remember him, don't you?" I asked.

Her eyelids dropped for a second and air heaved from her chest before she nodded her head, "In my career, along the way, there are cases that you just can't forget. Nikolas is definitely one of them."

She leaned back into her seat, "But I wouldn't share any information with you. Like I said, it's his privacy.

I have no right or whatsoever to do such thing."

I leaned forward in my seat, grabbing her full attention, "Look, you're doing this job so your patients get better, right?" I started, trying to reason with her, "And that's all I want, for him to get better. But he wouldn't tell me a thing. So how am I supposed to help him if I don't even know what his problem is in the first place?"

She eyed me suspiciously, "Why doesn't he go and see a doctor? Why you are the one doing this?"

"He doesn't want to." I lied again, "But I want to help him, that's why." Another stupid lie. Man, am I gonna go to hell for this?

"For you to help your patients, don't you listen to their stories first?" I asked to which she nodded in return. "That's all I need, to hear his story."

I know half of it. Now, I need to know the other half.

I've read some of the reports i've taken —more like stolen from the asylum — but they weren't specific.

And this doctor's name was mentioned in all of them, so I'd figured by meeting her, i'd be able to get some of the details I need.

"I've read the reports you've written. I've seen the videos you've taken."

At my words, her eyebrows pulled together, they searched mine trying to figure out how in hell was I able to get my hands on them, "You have placed so much effort in his case, I noticed that, so don't tell me that you didn't care about his well being, because it seemed that you did.

And if you still do, help me — so I can help him."

She straightened up in her seat, her eyes left me for a second as her hand went to her face and took off the glasses she was wearing. She placed them aside before she rested her arms over the desk and seemed ready to talk.

"When I worked at the asylum, I only dealt with kids who were born that way, people with illnesses caused by abnormalities, an illness that could be defined by a medical term." She started and I listened eagerly, patiently waiting to know more.