Chapter 14 Marfil #2
I gathered all my strength from deep within my soul and pushed myself up to a seated position. The doctor, a man of no more than fifty, stood over me. Behind him—with a worried expression I’d never seen on him before—Sebastian kept his eyes glued to me.
“Your friend told me that you recently got a tattoo, and he thinks it’s infected.”
“He’s not my friend,” was my only response.
The doctor ignored my reply as he rummaged in his kit. He gave me a thermometer and told me to stick it under my arm.
“While we wait, why don’t you turn around so I can get a look at the tattoo?”
I did as he asked and lifted my shirt. The doctor and Sebastian both winced in unison, making my hair stand on end. Then the thermometer started to beep. When the doctor read it and informed us that I had a fever of over 104, I started to feel worried as well.
“That’s a very high fever.”
“Do I have an infection?”
“A whale of an infection, Miss Cortés. You need to start taking antibiotics immediately. And with a fever like that, you should be at the hospital until it passes—a day or so, give or take.”
“What? No way.”
“Marfil, fuck. Do what he says.”
“I don’t want to go to the hospital. My father will find out about it and about the tattoo. Do you want him to kill me? No, there has to be another solution.”
The doctor frowned, accepting the fact he wasn’t going to change my mind. “You want to stay here, fine, but I have to warn you, you have an exhausting night ahead of you.” Turning to Sebastian, he said, “You, too, young man. You’ll need to run her a cool bath.”
Sebastian was furious. I could see it in his eyes and in the way he clenched his jaw, but he nodded along to the doctor’s orders.
“She’s going to need to take this medicine every four hours and apply this cream to the infected area. I’ll come back tomorrow to check on her. But if the fever doesn’t start to go down, you’ll need to take her to the emergency room.”
Sebastian agreed as the doctor handed him the prescriptions.
They left the room, and I wrapped the comforter around myself once again. I was freezing, shivering so hard that my teeth chattered.
I must’ve dozed off, because it was almost an hour later when Sebastian came back with the medication and the antibiotic cream.
“You need to get in the bath, Marfil.”
“No fucking way. That doctor is crazy. I’m freezing. I don’t want to feel even colder.”
“If the fever doesn’t go down, you’re going to have to go to the emergency room. And I’ll gladly drag you down there. So do what the doctor says if you don’t want to make me even more mad than I already am.”
“Mind your own business,” I said, burying my face in the pillow and covering my head with the blankets.
Before I had time to react, he’d lifted me up and was carrying me to the bath.
I didn’t have the strength to resist. All I could do was murmur insults at him until we reached the bathroom and he sat me down on the toilet.
I looked at the bath, and as soon as my arm touched the water, my skin became covered in goose bumps.
“I’ll die of hypothermia if I get in there.”
“If you won’t get it on your own, I’ll have to throw you in myself.”
I shivered violently.
“I should’ve cleaned your tattoo for you. I knew you couldn’t do it on your own.”
“I did clean it. The problem must’ve been that tattoo artist—who knows what kind of needle he used on me.”
Sebastian ignored my comment and placed a hand on my forehead. “You’re burning up. Please, just get in the bath.”
“I will. But don’t leave me.” I’m not sure where that came from—maybe I was delirious from the fever—but I asked him to stay… and he did.
Getting into that bath in my underwear was the most painful experience of my life.
Not only was my tattoo burning like crazy, but I was also shaking like a leaf, sitting in the bath curled into a ball, hugging my knees and cursing everyone and everything, most of all whoever the hell invented tattoos in the first place.
“I hate you,” I said over and over, my teeth clacking loudly.
“I know.”
After twenty minutes, I couldn’t take it anymore. I got on my feet. My hair and body were dripping wet, and I was still shaking violently.
Sebastian stood in front of me, and he couldn’t help but look at my soaked body. One glance was enough to see that my wet underwear didn’t leave much to the imagination.
“Do you want to take a picture while I freeze to death?”
Sebastian ignored my comment once again and wrapped me in a white towel before helping me out of the tub.
He placed me in front of the mirror while he gently dried me off, and I saw how horrible I looked.
My face was red from the fever, and my hair hung in a limp cascade that dripped onto the floor.
“I’ll leave you to put on your pajamas.”
I looked at the clothes he’d set out for me, cursing again between gritted teeth. “Did I mention that I hate you?” I shouted weakly.
When he didn’t answer, I stepped into my underwear and slipped on the summer nightgown. I wanted fleece pajamas, with thick socks and a scarf, not something that still left parts of my skin exposed! Annoyed, I dried my hair with the towel and brushed it in under a minute.
On my way to my bedroom, I passed him without saying a word, then got into bed, still trembling, and pulled the comforter up to my ears. “Don’t even think about taking away my covers. I swear I’ll bite you if you try it.”
Sebastian sighed and handed me a thermometer. I put it under my arm, and when it started to beep, I gave it back to him.
“What does it say?” I asked, hopeful. If I’d gone through that torture for nothing, I swear, I was prepared to jump off the balcony, which would almost certainly be less painful.
“A hundred and one,” he said, frowning.
I smiled. “It worked.”
“It’s still a high fever.”
“Don’t be so annoying. It went down. Now, let me sleep.”
“You have to take this first.”
He gave me the pill and left my room.
I fell asleep instantly, or at least that’s how it seemed. I was exhausted, and felt as if I’d run barefoot through a blizzard, fallen off a cliff, and then walked eight hours straight through the desert.
I opened my eyes who knows how many hours later to a figure moving toward my bed, carrying a tray.
I immediately tensed and felt scared, like I was experiencing déjà vu.
“Don’t touch me! Let me go! Help!” I screamed desperately.
“Hey! Hey! Marfil, it’s me… It’s me, Sebastian.”
I stopped screaming and looked all around. I was in my room, with no trace of that basement…
I stared frightenedly at Sebastian, and he let go of me immediately.
“It’s me,” he said again in an almost inaudible whisper.
I slowly nodded, then lay back on the bed, my eyes fixed on him.
It had been like two scenes merging into one.
Had I just remembered something from the kidnapping?
“I brought you some tomato soup. You need to drink some water, too. You haven’t had any liquids in hours.”
He placed his hand on my forehead, and I closed my eyes at his touch. My head was pounding.
I sat up carefully, making sure that my back didn’t brush against the headboard, and I drank the soup in small sips.
“How are you feeling?”
I didn’t answer. I suddenly felt like I was in some sort of trance, as if I were in danger. I feared for my life, and not because of the fever and the infection. I was afraid of him, of Sebastian, of him being in my room.
“Why are you looking at me like I’m going to hurt you?”
I stared down at the soup. It was hot and delicious, and even managed to warm me up. Or maybe the antibiotic had taken effect and the fever was starting to go down.
“I had a nightmare, that’s all.”
Sebastian nodded, looking concerned. When I finished the soup, he took the bowl and set in on the bedside table.
“Now I’ll put some ointment on your tattoo, then you can go back to sleep.”
As soon as his fingertips made contact with my skin, shivers ran up and down my spine. I hadn’t forgotten how cold he’d been to me days before, which allowed me to ultimately feel thankful when he finished, turned off the lights, and left.
The night was long and difficult. My fever hadn’t taken long to spike up again, and Sebastian had to repeatedly apply freezing-cold compresses to my forehead, making sure my fever didn’t rise above 104.
I felt weak and miserable. At one point, I even begged him to get in bed with me.
He did, although he stayed on top of the sheets.
It was easier for him to apply the compresses from that position, but my request came more from my delirious, fevered state than anything else.
I might have been hallucinating, but I could’ve sworn he ran his hands through my hair for what felt like hours until I finally fell asleep.
When I opened my eyes, the light of a new day filtering in through the window, he was no longer in bed with me. I instead found him observing me from the chair in the corner.
I sat up, locking eyes with his.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, also sitting up.
I’m sure I looked as bad as I felt, like a total wreck, but he somehow managed to look more handsome than I’d ever seen him, even with dark circles under his eyes.
I wanted to push his messy hair out of his face.
I wanted to kiss him all over to thank him for staying up all night with me and taking care of me the way he had. But I couldn’t do either.
“Good, much better,” was all I said.
Sebastian stood up and looked at me. Before he could open his mouth and disappoint me, I decided what would happen next.
“I’ll tell Liam to come take care of me from now on. You can take your free hours, or do whatever you want. I won’t be going anywhere for the next few days, clearly.”
Sebastian drew his lips together into a fine line but didn’t say anything else.