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Ice cold water splashes over my entire face— making me wide awake again. "Please, stay awake." I can see the faint outlines of people hovering over me, watching me, like I'm some Mona Lisa. Who are all these people?
The black spots dancing around in my vision, using it as their stage while I suffer, are making it pretty hard to see clear. It feels like someone stopped multiple knives in my body and then jumped around on it. A loud whimper, followed by sobs make it out of my mouth. It hurts so fucking bad.
I try to move my arm and sit up straight— wrong move. I scream it out of the pain it gives me. Why did I try to escape? If any one thought a little logical about it, they would immediately see that I'm not some special ninja that can jump over banisters and climb up heavy bolders. But, I never thought logical. It seemed so easy.
"Don, she's here!" Some yelling is done across the garden, making my head hurt. Why can't I move my leg anymore? Or my arm? I hear some yelling in a foreign language and the dark, gloomy shadows disappear. Instead, another silhouette comes into my line of sight. Tears roll of my cheek as I look at it. The dancing black spots don't let me see it— not wanting their dance coming to an end.
A touch, a light feathering touch is what I feel. The rough edges of it don't matter, only the warmth that touches my skin. "Dolce, can you hear me?" The deep, manly voice calms me down a bit. It's him. I should probably be very scared right now but I'm glad to hear someone familiar to me.
I start to whimper, "i-it hurts." Hands grab hold of my agonizing body; lifting it up. "Sh, it's okay. I got you," Giovani whispers in my ear, "I'm going to take you to the doctor now." My head hurts like a bitch, along with almost every other part of my body. Dread slowly starts to fill me like a glass of water. He will be so angry with me.
I know this calm exterior of him is just a fake façade. Maybe if I explain to him my fear of locked rooms, he will understand. The dancing figures in my eyes have turned to walking, making me see more clearly now. Slowly, I look up to the handsome face above me. Giovani is already watching me, not giving me one hint about his emotions right now.
"I'm sorry G-Giovani," I say. My voice is cracking of the dryness in it. It feels like someone stuffed my mouth with cotton for over twenty-four hours. "We'll talk about this later baby girl," he sighs. Even from this point of view, his jawline is tight as fuck. If someone ever looks at my chin from beneath me, all he will see is double— maybe triple.
"You're hot." "You're drunk," he retorts. I pout. I'm not drunk. "Adamo, open the door!" Giovani yells. I wince at the harsh sound. "Don't yell, please." Giovani scoffs and lays me down on a hospital bed. "Buonasera, miss. I'm Adamo, your doctor for tonight," the man next to me says.
He looks just as muscular as the other guys here, fitting right in. The only difference: he looks sincere— something I missed in this place. I groan in return, trying to talk. "Can I take off your clothes? I need to see where you're injured."
