Chapter 30 Toma
THIRTY
TOMA
Everything. Fucking. Hurts.
My tongue is heavy and dry as the desert as I try to lick my lips and bring back moisture into my mouth. Did I eat sand or something? My throat aches as I swallow over nothing.
I cough and it’s like someone used sandpaper on my vocal cords and a baby elephant sleeps on my chest. Groaning with pain and discomfort, I shift but find that it makes it worse.
“Try to move as little as you can, Mr Kova?. Your stitches are fresh and knife wounds can be unforgiving,” a voice I don’t recognise says.
My mind floats through cotton candy. I had no idea death would be a mix of soreness, aching limbs and an addled mind. It’s like my consciousness is pulling at threads of thoughts and memories but I’m too tired to piece them together.
My stomach growls and chuckles echo as if through a fishbowl.
Of course demons are mocking me. With my luck, it was predictable.
Except these demons don’t attack me, and I can’t really see them.
Hunger yells inside me again and my heavy eyelids blink open a few times.
Everything is blurry, the light harsh and the smell of lemon disinfectant used in hospitals heavy in the air.
A thumping headache going from the base of my skull to the back of my brows tops off my misery.
Then, she appears above me. The angel with the golden hair and the hazel eyes. Even though I can barely see, I know it’s her. I’ve memorised the round shape of her face and the soft high cheeks I loved to kiss. “Lucie.”
“Hi, piccolo.”
Soft hands take hold of one of mine and bring me back slowly into my body, into reality. Her thumb rubs back and forth on my skin and I close my eyes again, humming. It’s so nice.
She sits on the side of my bed and her perfume invades my senses.
“Ana?s Ana?s,” I say to myself. “I knew I’d smell it even in Hell.”
“You’re not in Hell, piccolo. You’re at the hospital. You’re safe.” My angel’s voice cracks on the last word and I frown, blinking my eyes open again. Silver lines hers. I want to wipe the tears away but lifting my arms requires too much effort.
“Lu,” I breathe her name again.
“I’m here.”
“I’m not dead?”
“No. You’re alive. You’re hurt and you’ll need a lot of care, but you’re alive.”
A rush of fear spreads through me. Because if I’m alive, it means the man I needed to destroy isn’t. I press up with adrenaline helping my movements but Lucie places a hand on my shoulder. I grimace.
“Sorry.”
She puts two fluffy pillows behind my back and lifts my bed to a sitting position, an electric wheezing sound making my teeth hurt. I blink a few more times to remove the sheen across my vision.
We’re alone in a soft beige room. I’m plugged with different machines and IVs, but my legs are intact, my arms heavy by my side.
I look up at my beautiful girl. The edges of her face blur but in the middle, as if through a halo, I see her.
And she’s so beautiful. Even marred with worry, she’s the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.
Things are coming back to me. And they fill me with shame.
“My brother?”
“Dead. You strangled him to death with your chains. I found you. I was so scared, Toma.”
“I’m so sorry, Lucie.”
“Don’t be.”
With effort, I lift my hand and bring it on top of hers, holding her the one way I can without moaning in agony and distress, pulling at my stitches and broken ribs.
“Please,” I beg. “Please forgive me. I don’t deserve it, but I need you to understand.”
“I understand.”
Her voice is firm, her shoulders set. Her pink jumpsuit is stark against the sterile decor of the hospital room I’m in, and even more when I realise I’m in a hospital gown.
It suits her so well. Makes her look bright and happy.
Though her mouth is turned down, and a muscle ticks in her jaw.
Her lips are a pale blue like she lacks nutrients.
My girl always forgets to eat when she’s stressed.
“Listen to me, Toma. I understand why you thought you had to hurt me. And I want to forgive you. I just—”
“You don’t have to forgive me.”
“Enough.”
I snap my mouth shut though my eyes widen at her dismissive and sharp tone. My heartbeat kicks up in recognition. My thorny rose has bloomed.
“Enough with the self-deprecating shit,” she says.
“It almost cost you your life. It hurt me. I won’t tolerate any more of it.
You forbade me once to talk badly about myself.
You’re forbidden from it, too. I’m mad at you.
You’ll have to earn my forgiveness, but I love you.
” Her lip trembles. She clenches her jaw.
And I look on, in awe. “I love you, Toma. I can’t let you sabotage us again. ”
“Anything.”
“What?”
“Anything. I’ll do anything to earn your forgiveness.”
She sniffs and sets her shoulders back, satisfaction pouring our of her as she gives me a small smile. A real one. My whole body surrenders, going slack with her by my side telling me she loves me.
“I love you, Lucie Ventura. From the first time I saw you, I’ve loved you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to show you how sorry I am. I never meant any of the hurtful things I said. But I’ll work hard to prove it to you. Anything you want, it’s yours.”
I lift her hand to my mouth and kiss her fingers, groaning in pain. A peachy hue travels up her cheeks. Then she clears her throat.
“Well, first of all, you’ll let me care for you. You’re hurting just to kiss my hand.” I nod. “Then, you’ll work for Dante. Anything he asks. However, you’re meant to be doing desk jobs, no going around killing anyone. You’re out of soldier duty. Forever.”
I nod again, and a grin spreads on my cheeks. She knows what it means to me to become more than what my fate was supposed to be.
“Third is therapy.”
I groan at that. “Ru?ica moja.”
“Don’t ‘ru?ica moja’-me. You’re going to go to therapy to talk about what happened to you when you were young.”
I avert my gaze. A full body shudder travels its way through me. It’s not only what happened in my youth. It’s what Petar put me through over the past month. The deaths. The executions. The torture.
The rapes.
“Lu, I—”
I exhale, full of anguish and terrified. My brain knows it’s not my fault but my heart and my soul are terrified it will push her away. She’ll hate me if she knows.
Lucie glides her hand on my cheek and I lean into her, smelling her floral scent at her wrist and kissing it.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she whispers. “I love you. Nothing can change that.”
Then I tell her. Everything my mind remembers, the soul deep shame, how holding her hand is a relief and a torment all at once. How being in a hospital gown is too close to being naked and makes me feel dirty and too vulnerable. How I hoped for death.
When I’m done, we’re both crying, cheeks red and heart hammered down.
“Can I climb in and lie next to you?” She asks.
I hesitate. “Can you… Can you get me some clothes first? I… I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do skin to skin right now.”
She swallows and her lip trembles but she doesn’t hide it behind a smile. “Of course, piccolo. Let me get a nurse, too.”
“No,” I snap. “No nurse. Just you.”
She nods.
Carefully, she slides a pair of black joggers up my legs, mindful not to touch my legs more than necessary.
Holding my breath, I sit up and she unties the gown at my back.
My injuries are extensive and my shoulders are too stiff to move.
I can’t put on the sweater she brought so we opt for a henley shirt instead.
It’s nothing I’ve worn and I look ridiculous.
Lucie gives me a shy smile. “I thought you might not be able to move much so…”
“So you thought it was your opportunity to dress me like a lumberjack out of your fantasy, Lu?”
“Well, when we go to the cottage this summer, I’d love to watch you axe some logs.”
My whole body relaxes at knowing she already has plans that far ahead. And I’m included. “That sounds like a good plan.”
When I’m dressed, Lucie climbs up the hospital bed and arranges her body so she’s next to me but we don’t touch.
I want to embrace her, to hold her, but I can’t.
And it might just kill me. Her heat wafts towards me, warming my darkened soul.
I still don’t believe I’m worthy of her, regardless of what happened in Split.
But that line of thinking already put her at risk once and for her, I’d do anything.
Even heal the parts of myself I thought had been broken and thrown into the Adriatic Sea.