Then There's Wilbur

Chapter 15

Diana

If someone told me I got into an accident right after I told them to be careful then realizing someone just put a pad on my face, I'd stay quiet as the man on the bed.

He cleared his throat before looking at me. "Thank you, really. This wasn't part of the itinerary." He gestured his arm around the room. The redness of his ears has turned a lighter shade of pink now.

"It's fine. I've never seen anyone fall the way you did. You went all Neo on us back there."

He chuckled. "Tory?"

"She's with your mother. She was the one who called your dad on my phone. Smart girl, that one."

He nodded before touching his head. The doctor already told him it wasn't serious but he had to be more careful.

"My mom was right," he sighed. "I do have a thick skull." He cleared his throat before rubbing one of his ears.

"I mean there were towels, right?

I frowned, not entirely sure why he had to mention towels.

"To stop the bleeding," he continued.

My eyes widened. "Oh, we're not finished with that one?"

So for the past hour, we talked about how the towels were drenched in sweat and dirt. It was difficult for him to look me in the eye so he nodded as I explained how sanitary pads were clean enough to be used for first aid. I mean that was its job; to keep the bleeding under control.

Then the subject moved to how he dislocated his shoulder and a friend had to pop it back in place when he was seventeen. Something about riding horses and impressing the college girls who visited during the summer. Wil had enough stories to last the whole evening.

"You've lived," I remarked.

"And almost died a couple of times," he replied.

He admitted to being the stereotypical bad boy back in high school, cigars and all. The man still looked like it. He kind of reminded me of the dress-up games I played when I was really young. Although now, he looked like the default look – plain shirt and jeans. It was easy to imagine him still living the life he was describing. Put the man in leather clothes and a bike and call it a day.

"Well if it was so fun, why did you," I pouted, pointing to his direction.

He scoffed, "What? Are you telling me I'm no fun now?"

I chuckled. "I'm not the one in a hospital bed, am I?"

He was about to answer back but decided against it.

"Hey."

I met his eyes and he took a deep breath. "You see this scar?" he moved the arm he was talking about.

I noticed it before but never really bothered asking. I had no right to. I didn't say anything and just let him take his time.

"Bullet wound," he said, averting his gaze to stare up the ceiling. "I'm actually part of the mafia."

I felt my hands turn cold. Wasn't I accused of being involved with the mafia before this?

"I see," I said matter-of-factly.

What do you mean? You went to a trip with a man from the mafia. You can't live a normal life anymore. One of these days you're going to get kidnapped and your organs are going to be sold in the black market. All for what? Trusting a guy with a kid.

"Diana, are you okay?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to reach for me. "I need to tell you something else."

I cleared my throat. I was so scared I felt like throwing up. This time, I won't feel the slightest bit of guilt.