39. Domenic
Chapter 39
Domenic
I’m worried about Mackenzie. It’s been weeks now since her mom died, and she’s barely gotten out of bed.
I’m worried about Valentino, too. Because of his injuries from the blast, he’s been put on some pretty heavy meds. He’s been sleeping more than usual, which is understandable, but even when he’s awake, he’s withdrawn.
They ended up taking him to the hospital for x-rays and scans. He has a fractured skull from the blast and a mild concussion. They said time will mend things for him, but he’ll need analgesics while he’s healing, and that’s a worry.
He’s withdrawn from us all, just adding to the rift that is slowly splitting us apart.
Kirill and I sit in the den, a somber mood hanging over us. We don’t really know what to do with ourselves. Regular lessons have been cancelled because of the bombing and the investigation that followed. It’s ironic that the attack on us wasn’t from within our world, but, because of the college and the nature of the student body, it’s caused a massive headache for my father and the other senior staff members when dealing with the authorities.
We were given work to do online, but none of us have bothered to do it. It’s as though we’re still shellshocked that something like this can have happened, and fearful of it happening again. Of course, I know it won’t. I killed Paxton with my own hands, but, in our business, there’s always going to be danger lurking around the corner.
I’ve been curling up in bed with Mackenzie at night, slipping into her room while she’s sleeping and wrapping myself around her. I know she’s been having nightmares about everything that’s happened, and when her body tenses in my arms and she starts to whimper, I hold her tighter and stroke her hair until they ease.
I admit that being so close to her without anything physical happening between us has been hard. I have the bluest of balls that have only been kept at bay by watching the video footage I have of Mackenzie and looking at her dirty photographs, while masturbating like a teenager. Only a month ago, I’d probably have just fingered Mack while she slept and come in her panties, but I’m a changed man…well, maybe not changed, but slightly better adjusted.
Though the need to cut myself has been strong, I’ve been stronger. It’s an addiction I’ve had to fight, and I’ve fought it for her. She needs me now, and I refuse to wallow in self-pity, as tempting as it is. Instead of giving in to a blade, I’ve taken myself out on a run, pounding the trails around the college.
It’s not been easy, but it’s worth it. She’s my priority now.
Kirill sometimes sits with Mackenzie in the day, and I’ve heard them talking, their voices low and sad. They both have recently lost a parent, and they were both trapped down in that basement and went through hell, so, on those occasions, I leave them to talk, not wanting to interrupt. It’s never for long, anyway, and when I ask Kirill if he feels there’s been any breakthrough, he always shakes his head.
Mackenzie blames herself for everything that’s happened, and nothing we do or say seems to get through to her.
“Fuck,” Kirill suddenly says.
I jump at the curse.
“What?”
“I just remembered it’s your birthday tomorrow.”
“Oh, yeah.” I shrug. “Not that it matters.”
“Of course it matters, D. Why would it not?”
“You think Mackenzie and Tino are going to want to celebrate? Tino might, if I promise him a belly full of booze and drugs, but Mackenzie isn’t going to be interested.”
“She might be,” he presses. “We should at least tell her. She probably doesn’t know what day it is.”
I scrub my hands over my face. “You just want an excuse to see her.”
He pouts and adjusts his nose ring. “Maybe. And what’s so wrong with that?”
He’s right. There isn’t anything wrong with it. “Just don’t pressure her into partying, okay? She’s got way more important things on her mind.”
“Maybe she’ll appreciate having a distraction.”
I cock an eyebrow. “A distraction from her mom dying? I think it’s going to take something a bit more important than me turning twenty-two.”
My dad’s been grieving, too, and I almost feel guilty about it. I’d doubted his feelings toward Lucia had been real, but they clearly were. The clean-up after the bombing and the investigations have kept him busy, but he’s a shell of a man. He’s lost two women he loved in the space of a year, and it’s done a number on him. I keep putting myself in his place, imagining we’d lost Mackenzie instead of her mom, and find myself with unaccustomed sympathy toward him.
Kirill gets to his feet and puts his hand out to me to pull me up.
“Maybe,” he says, “but sometimes it’s good to have something that’s just for fun.”
I exhale and take his hand. It’s warm and dry and solid, and he yanks me to my feet. Sometimes I forget how much Kirill has been through. His dad died recently as well, but it’s different for him. Grigoriy was a bastard who tormented Kirill his entire life, and while I’m sure Kirill has mixed emotions about the man’s death, I’m fairly sure one of those emotions is relief.
“Fine,” I relent, “but if she’s not interested, we don’t push her, okay? I don’t want her feeling bad because she doesn’t want to celebrate my dumb-ass birthday.”
“She will. She loves you,” he reassures me.
I smack him on the shoulder. “Thanks, dude. She loves you, too.”
He nods. “Yeah, she’s just a little caught up in her own shit right now. We have to make sure she knows we’re still here for her, whenever she’s ready.”