Chapter 7
Blair
Death was an invaluable measure of how precious life was.
We could control the decisions we made, the people we loved or hated, and what we chose to do with our lives, but the one thing we couldn’t was dying.
The beige patched walls held only one window by the bedside, the surfaces of the table sanitized, leaving a rotten rubbing alcohol smell, and the cool air and lifeless movement gave me no hope.
Watching Konstantin lay on the hospital bed not moving as the lower part of his abdomen was wrapped with bandages. His skin a shade paler than before as sweat broke around his temple. The orbs of blue remained shut since that day, falling into a coma as the doctors operated on him.
His fever had broken and reappeared in the last several days like clockwork. That was after the doctors were able to remove the bullet; thankfully, he didn’t suffer too much internal damage. They were able to sew part of his stomach back.
Yet with the beeping of the machines as they hooked him up to multiple IVs and multiples, he didn’t look any better.
The only thing that I was grateful for was that the police didn’t pressure or force an intervention or investigation since the doctors quoted his condition as life and death and the hospital was responsible.
But it was only delaying the inevitable.
Guilt ate consciousness. Unable to deal with the possibility that something worse would happen, I'd never forgive myself. Although it wasn't directly my fault, somehow I felt responsible. He would be the second person I would have failed to protect.
A tear slid down my cheek as I sat next to him on a chair wearing a white lace v- neck dress. I didn't want to dress like I was going to a funeral. No, he was going to live.
“Please stay alive,” I whispered to him. Although he was asleep, somewhere deep down he could hear me. “Fight. Fight like the fierce warrior you are.”
My eyes peered up at him, intently watching for a reaction, movement, or a word if he could.
But nothing changed; the incessant beeping of the monitor was never-ending.
My head fell low between my shoulders as I reached out and touched his hands and took them in mine. Rough, sullied hands that held brutal experience, but right now he was like any other human being. Regardless of his sins, good or bad, he needed someone’s care.
It was weird knowing this man for such a short amount of time, and I cared for him. I didn’t know if it was his bravery or if I was scared he'd get caught or if he died. Who will remember him? He had no one. No family. No friends. No one to care.
I wept again.
God, how could this stranger make my heart break?
“Kotyonok?” A deeply gravelly voice spoke amongst my spiraling.
I lifted my head, and my heart lurched as Konstantin watched me with a glazed stare. Tired.
A shocking breath fled my chest. “Oh my god!”
I jumped out of my chair, turning to the door to get help. “Doctor! Nurse!”
Yet a force pulled on my wrist, turning my gaze back as he swallowed, “Don’t go.”
A loose strand of hair curled around my cheek.
Another fleeting smile captured my lips. “I won’t.” I turned to the drawer next to him, pouring him a cup of water. “I just wanted to let the doctors know you’re awake. You have been out. Here.” I brought it to his lips, adjusting his head softly, and he carefully drank.
His brow dipped, lost in time. “For how long?”
“A few days; technically, you were in a coma.” I answered, placing the cup back on the drawer top and coming back and placing my palm on his right hand, thousands of sparks setting off underneath. However, this was just a sign of moral support. Nothing more. Nothing less.
“Shit, I need to go!” He sat up, quickly lifting his torso off the bed as he abruptly stopped. Clenching his eyes shut, his head fell back against the pillow.
“Don’t.” I reprimanded, readjusting him and the blanket while I tucked him in. “You just had surgery a few days ago, your stomach was wide open, and you’re still healing.”
A spirit of interest dawned upon him as he gazed down, lifting the sheet and seeing the bandage area.
“Fuck, I forgot how it hurts like a bitch afterwards.”
“And it didn’t hurt during? Just how many times have you gotten shot?”
“10? 15? 20?”
“No way.” I slapped him on the ribs unconsciously as he grunted, still sensitive from the injury. “Ooo, sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
It was not.
“Seriously though, who do you think you are? The Terminator? Superman?”
“No, Batman’s more my style.” He was still sarcastic while being hospitalized; this guy definitely had some unsolved trauma or shit.
Semi-scowling, I shake my head. “Dummy,” I said under my breath, mindlessly lifting my other free hand and tucking a loose curl away from his temple, then deciding to just thread my fingers through it. His hair held the faintest smell of strawberries, just like mine.
I always wondered why such a delicate, sweet scent didn’t bother a brute rogue like him.
My hands paused when I noticed his eyes tracking me.
Yielding embarrassment crawled on my cheeks. “What is it?”
“Have you been crying, Blair?” He raised his hand, touching my cheek with the back of his palm. As he nudged gently, the slow-burning fire sparked beneath, making me selfishly crave for more.
“No—I… well, yes,” I admitted flusteredly, my hand fleeing his hair.
The lines of his lips went down. “Why?”
“Why?” The lump in my throat reappeared like a heavy anchor as saltiness burned the back of my eyes as one tear escaped.
“I mean, look at yourself. You were shot. The cops could have found you, and you nearly died. Do you know the strength it takes not to break down every day? I saw you lying here unresponsive? Or the fact that I left at night, not knowing if I was going to come back and find out you were dead.”
“I’m sorry, kotyonok.” He wiped the tear away with his thumb.
“You don’t have to be. It was just the stress and not knowing what would happen. It drives anyone insane.”
One brief smile touched his lips, instantly satisfied. “Who knew all I had to do was get shot for you to care about me?”
“Oh, shut up!” I retorted, irritated, while again slapping him in the chest right above the surgical spot. He flinched, dropping his hand from my cheek. “Sorry.” Not really; this time he deserved it. Well, maybe a little.
He let out a rough chuckle that was a bit more airy than usual. “God, if bullets don’t kill me, you will.”
A repulsive tang sat on the back of my throat as I felt two pairs of dead, raging eyes prickle at the back of my spine, haunting me constantly.
Some days I refused to look back, but I never changed his lurking presence.
My chest compressed as I lingered on that dirty little secret, palms folded, knuckles at my side. Though I tried to keep my composure, the look on my face must have given me away, as he said.
“It was just a joke, kotyonok.”
“Right,” I spoke tight-lipped, my shoulders falling square. “Anyway,” I whirled around, taking a bin full of water and a dry towel, dragging the table closer to us as I then proceeded to sit down on the edge of the bed.
Eying the bin, he asked. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you clean up a bit. If you haven’t noticed, you're dirty as a skunk.”
He pushed his head back on the pillow, his lips pulled at the corners, fighting a smile.
“A skunk? Damn, not even a dog?”
“That’s offensive… to the dog.”
Relishing in our little squabble, I dipped the warm towel in the warm water, twisting and squeezing it out as I grabbed his arm and carefully lathered it down. Mindlessly humming, I noticed the black ink of his tattoos was so intricate I wondered what some of them meant.
Konstantin scratched his nearly week-old scruff as he asked. “How’s the child?”
“Ah, Mauricio, great actually! A bit roughened up by the experience, but he was in awe of how you saved him. I'm actually not supposed to tell you this, but he and the other children wrote you some get-better cards.”
A fraction of sentiment passed his eyes as he became stoic again. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“You were brave out there. Seriously,” I paused, looking directly into his eyes. “Any other man would have cowered away.”
“It doesn’t matter whether I was a hero or a coward. I brought this danger upon you and took responsibility for it.”
Wow, a man taking accountability was the hottest thing ever.
Heavy weariness accumulated like a dark storm off the coast as he remained quiet for several seconds, but my curiosity got the best of me.
“Did you know that guy?”
“No, probably some low-level henchman sent by someone. No one that high up would expose themselves so stupidly,” he tsked with a heavier accent. “Damn fucker.”
“Why?”
“Because now that I’m out, I’m a threat. A liability. A vault of secrets many wouldn’t want to get out. I wasn’t an enforcer for no reason, kotyonok. I did bad things. Saw bad things and made sure no one would find out if I didn’t want to.” He ominously foretold, his gaze an impenetrable field.
Dealing with mafiosos wasn’t new to me, but with the current situation, the scaling of danger was incomprehensible. I mean, how did they sleep at night knowing there was a target on their backs constantly?
Well, that’s a thought I should ask myself too.
“My only concern is they know I’m still in the city. It means they’re watching. Why?” He murmured something along those lines.
An eerie pricking foreshadowing made goosebumps break on my skin.
My lips parted, nearly asking why when Reverend Mother, Sister Alice, and the head nurse walked in.
“Oh, look who’s awake?” The forty-something-year-old nurse breathed in delight, wearing blue scrubs and white sneakers.
I broke away from him and turned to the audience, his eyes following.
“Thank god,” Sister Alice and Reverend Mother sighed a cross.
“How are you doing, sir?” Reverend Mother inquired with a pleasant tone and polite smile.