I Can't Own You? (BOOK 1)

27 (NEW)

I hurry to a powder room off the foyer, dripping blood onto the floors like a river, feeling and hearing my skin squish nastily. My body tenses, my veins throb, my heart races like a drum. Dizziness takes over my sight. I'm losing too much blood. In the restroom, I tie a towel around my shoulder, tight enough to cut off my circulation. I grunt in agony.

Knocking from the door makes me jump. "James?" My wife asks in a scared whisper. My bloody hands dirty the white sink. "Honey?!" She says louder, hyperventilating.

"Not right now, Karen!" I hiss.

"There's so much blood..."

"I have it under control, stop hounding me!!!" My voice goes demonic, throaty, deeper than it actually is. I hear my wife's feet back pace, picturing her short figure, blonde hair, and twiddling thumbs.

"Boss?" A security guard comes to the door. "Do you need any assistance?"

"No, go away." I tighten the towel, taking off my belt and using it to wedge the cloth deeper into my shoulder. Whimpering, huffing, and preparing to yank out the knife. I do so hesitantly, only able to tug it slightly before chickening out. "COME ON!!!!" I shout, resting my red soaked hands on the sink.

This knife is so jagged, so sharp. Okay, just pull it out fast. On three. One. Two. Three. Ripping follows as I pluck the knife out quickly and drop it in the sink below. Howling in pain, I apply more pressure, taking another towel from a wall rack to fight off gushing blood. The room spins. I stumble onto the toilet, feeling my grip on life loosen. Stay awake...don't let the sons of bitches win. Word will get around, and I'll look like a pussy.

I feel blood ooze out of the wound, I check it, lifting the towel, it's still streaming. I stand, then crouch my injured shoulder over the sink, feeling an extreme tightness and stinging, smelling iron and something else...something odd and pungent.

Was it laced??? They wouldn't kill me, would they???

I push the thoughts away, standing to run cold water over the wound, watching the red swirl down the drain like juice. The two scents seeming stronger in water. My stomach jerks; vomit crawls my throat. I try to puke, but nothing comes up. I heave and retch, sweating bullets, my skin clammy and pale through the mirror.

Oh fuck...it's poison!!

My vision blurs. My muscles cramp, and my body convulses, losing its balance and falling to the floor, hard. My shoulder hits the surface; a bone pops out of place. I bleed on the cold, stone floor, screaming in pain. The water runs on in the sink.

The door bangs, I focus on it, my ears now buzzing. Someone kicks it in. A security guard breaks down the door, then runs to me and uncaps a clear syringe. Out of breath, he parts my lips and pours it into my mouth; my eyes cross. My heart slows. Karen holds a hand to her mouth, crying uncontrollably.

"Mommy, what's wrong?" I hear my daughter, Anna, whimper in the distance, her voice like a chipmunk. I silence my yells of suffering, not wanting her to hear. My mouth goes into a tight line, my jaws fill with forced air, with forced backed screams.

"Stay there!" Karen yells in sobs. "Brie, please take her back to her room!" My wife nears me, getting on her knees and holding my hand. "What is it?"

The guard rummages through a cabinet, taking out alcohol and antibiotic ointment, spreading the first over my wound. It burns, I wail and shake from the contact. "Poison, arsenic....but we caught it quick. I'm not sure if that counts towards a good recovery."

"The mafia poisoned him? WHY?!"

"It's not my place to tell your husband's business, if he didn't tell you then you don't need to know." The guard adds ointment then snatches bandages from the cabinet, wrapping the cloth around my shoulder firmly. I sing out a violent sound.

My wife perches her lips, upset, helpless, and hurt. She squeezes my hand. "He needs to go to the hospital...this is bad, he needs treatment. We need a doctor; he could die!"

"Mrs. Tillman, please step out for some air."

"But..."

"Go!" I manage to gargle on blood, feeling the room rotate under me. Karen sighs emotionally and storms off. "What's your name, guard?"

"Sydney." This guard is blank yet serious, with a blonde buzz cut, short facial hair, and an obedient essence.

"Thank you." My throat battles blood.

"No problem, boss."

"I have a mission for you."

Sydney's eyes flicker, comprehending my words quickly. "How many?"

"Twenty...do it now." I gag blood, as if about to lose a lung. I roll over on my side, letting blackness take my vision.