Violet
The door opens with an ominous squeak. I pass a light switch without giving it a glance. I don't know what pulls me down, but whatever it is, it's irresistibly calling me forward. I notice my feet are bare on the wooden stairs, which of course moan in protest with every step I make on my way down.
It's dark, but below, I can make out the shimmer of a light and noises like someone walking in a circle. That's what's pulling me forward one torturous step at a time. Down, down I go toward the light.
My hand brushes over the rough surface of a wooden railing, and despite the creaking underneath me, I feel like I'm floating and don't need to hold on to the banister.
I step forward, but he takes a step back.
A frown creases my brows as we keep moving like this, the area around us expanding infinitely.
"Marcello?" I call his name.
"Are you sure you want to be here with me? In the darkness?" He asks.
"But it's not dark," I say, just as more light floods the basement, illuminating the expansive, luxurious area. But I don't care for any of that, only the man who is still taking a step back for every one I take forward.
"It's dangerous," he warns, pointing at the now rock-covered ground. Sharp edges hit my bare feet, but I take a step forward and another, holding my hand out to Marcello. Without hesitation, he rushes forward. "Tesoro."
He pulls me into his arms and carries me over the treacherous ground. I lean my head against his chest.
He stops, his head hovering over mine like he's about to kiss me.
"I love you," he says, the words I've been longing to hear for so long. Tears fill my eyes because now I know this is just a dream.
A wonderful, achingly beautiful dream. One I never want to wake up from.
His lips open, either to finally kiss me or to say something else, but instead of words, a strange sound emanates from him.
A familiar sound. Beep-Beep-Beep. A sound I've heard so many times, for so many years, it's become like Muzak in an elevator, or music at the grocery store.
The sound continues, Beep-Beep-Beep, and gains in intensity.
From far, far away, I hear Marcello's voice.
"Tesoro. I love you."
I feel a tear run down my cheek and know I'm waking up. But I don't want to. I want to stay down there with him, where he says I love you. I feel his hand holding mine, the slight brush of his knuckles as he wipes the tears away.
"Don't cry, tesoro, you're breaking my heart." His voice is hoarse and raw, like he's been screaming for hours.
My head hurts, it's a drumming pain, and only one eye wants to open as I blink. My lips feel chapped and my throat raw. But it's the pain that brings it all back. The flight. Disembarking the jet. The helicopter and the shots. Shots! I was shot.
"Marcello!" With a hoarse scream, I sit up so abruptly, dizziness overcomes me. Bile rises in my throat, and I sink back into the bed.
"Violet." He calls my name with so much emotion, it pushes all my pains and discomforts to the back. A little bit more cautious this time, I try to sit up again.
"Stay down, tesoro. You were hurt. Do you need anything?"
"You. Just you," I whisper, clinging to his hand like a drowning person. I still feel somewhat discombobulated, like I'm wading through cotton. "I dreamed," a smile forms on my lips. "Oh, it was such a wonderful dream."
He leans forward, and his face fills my vision. I raise my free hand to put it on his cheek. It's rough from not shaving for… how long have I been here?
"What did you dream, tesoro?"
I can almost swear that there are lines on his face that weren't there the last time I saw him.
I wasn't in a coma for years, was I? The thought hits me like a burning iron, but my logical nursing mind tells me that this is not the case.
My face feels swollen, and I can feel the gauze around my head.
I was hurt. If I'd been in a coma for longer than a week, all of this would be healed.
A small giggle escapes me.
"What's so funny?" He wants to know, lifting my hand and kissing my knuckles.
"The irony…" I manage. "First you were shot in the head and now me."
The small curve that was growing around the edges of his lips dies back down into a pressed line as he fails to see the humor in this. Which only makes me giggle more.
The giggles turn into tears the moment I remember the dream. His voice. Telling me he loved me.
"Don't cry, tesoro, please don't cry. You're breaking my heart." He whispers, leaning his head against mine. "I thought I lost you."
"I'm not going anywhere," I promise. "You're stuck with me."
"God, I love you," he says. So evenly, as if he'd said it a hundred times before.
I still. Am I still dreaming?
He lets go of my hand and takes my face into both of his, looking determinedly at me. "I love you."
More tears gather, one rolls down, and he wipes it away with his thumb.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I love you. I've always loved you, but I was too stubborn to recognize it until it was almost too late."
He loves me!
My heart picks up a few notches, the sound on the monitor with it, Beep-Beep-Beep! Marcello looks up, concerned, from me to the monitor and back. I grin at him.
"That's just me, being happy," I reassure him.
And I am. So incredibly happy that my throat constricts, resulting in my oxygen reading reaching a low enough point to set off the oxygen alarm and spike my heart rate.
A nurse I don't know rushes in. "Ah, she's awake. How are you feeling, sweetheart?" She moves straight to the monitor like I did a hundred times before, turning it off.
"Great," I say honestly.
She grins, "That's probably the morphine."
I return her grin like a sappy puppy dog. "It's more him," I point my chin at Marcello.
"That would bring my heart rate up, too," she agrees, "but your oxygen is low… oh wait, it's coming back up."
"Violet, good to see you awake," Doctor Waspo enters. I tense, and the damn monitor picks that up too. Damn. But having Waspo and Marcello in the same room brings back other memories.
"You tried to kill him," I accuse, full of venom, as if it had happened a few hours ago rather than months.
The nurse looks at Waspo in surprise.
Waspo looks uncomfortable and guilty.
He clears his throat, "Your mind is still a little hazy from the anesthesia and the morphine, it's perfectly normal to—"
"Why is he still alive?" I turn to Marcello, whose face lights up with amusement.
"You wanted me not to kill him, remember?" He reminds me. Slowly, I return to myself and swallow hard.
"I'm sorry."
Marcello laughs, "Don't be. I'll do whatever you want me to do."
Waspo blanches, and the nurse hurries out.
Waspo clears his throat again, regaining his composure. "You were lucky, Violet. The bullet only grazed your head, but you lost quite a bit of blood and have a moderate to severe concussion. We'll keep you here for a few days and—"
I ignore him, fully focused on Marcello, "I want to go home."
"Violet," he shakes his head, "I think you should listen—"
"You didn't," I accuse. "As a matter of fact, you only waited a day before you left the hospital after you had titanium implanted into your skull.
" My voice rises slightly with my aggravation.
But I really do want to go home. I want to see Felix.
I want to lie in our bed. I want to be alone with Marcello.
Doctor Waspo walks over to my morphine pump, "Don't you dare push that," I warn.
He looks at Marcello, who gives him a slight nod. Traitor!
And then the world around me fades into haziness again.
"I don't like you," I mumble, unsure if I mean Waspo or Marcello.
"I love you," Marcello replies with a smile in his voice.