43. Aurora
Chapter 43
Aurora
T he boy hasn’t been back . He must have told them about our interaction. Snitch .
Between losing consciousness and calling for help, the hours are blending together. And no matter what I try to keep track of how long has passed, I still don’t know what day it is.
I need the end to come .
I need the grand finale in an extraordinarily boring life to arrive sooner rather than later.
My cut hasn’t stopped bleeding for longer than a few minutes and if it wasn’t for another tray of food being dropped off earlier, I’d think they’d left me to die. Hell, I’m not sure why they’re feeding me at all, to be honest. Especially since the last monster who brought me food responded to my pleas for something to staunch the bleeding with a disgusted grunt. He threw the tray onto the floor by the door, spilling half of its contents.
I forced myself to crawl across the room to ease the hunger pangs. The scraps did little to help, barely giving me enough strength to sit up, let alone make it back to the cot.
My eyes feel heavy and with my back propped up against the wall and my head rolling against the exposed brick, I allow them to flutter closed.
There are what feels like two seconds of darkness before a familiar voice calls out, “Hey, baby.”
My brows tug together and my eyes sting from unshed tears. Emptiness fills my body, but the pain in my chest only amplifies. I miss her so much . Blinking my eyes open, I search the room for her, calling out, “Mom?”
She’s been coming to me more often these past few days. Appearing in snippets, like a hologram. Now, she crouches in front of me, her hand brushing away the hair that the sweat has plastered to my forehead. I close my eyes at the familiar touch. It feels so real.
“It’s me, sweetie.” She moves to sit next to me on the floor, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into her side like she did when I was a kid.
Tremors race through me and I tighten my arms around my waist as I lean into her touch. I feel clammy and hot, yet I can’t stop shivering. Is that because I have an infection? The first aid training I got as part of my job doesn’t exactly cover past the time it would take a medic to get to the scene.
Well, nobody’s coming for me .
With all this extra time on my hands, I’ve reflected on how much I’ve messed up with purely existing . There was so much I could have done that wouldn’t have involved the extremes of mafia life, but instead, I chose to do nothing . As if that was any better, or even what my mom would have wanted for me.
I should have traveled the world or opened an art gallery. Instead, I hid away and worked. And what exactly do I have to show for it? I missed out on love… on lust and the feeling of being wanted so much by another person that they’d sacrifice it all for me. That fills me with a sadness far worse than the thought of never getting out of here and being forgotten ever could.
A tear slips free, and I hiccup, “Nothing makes sense anymore. I miss you so much.”
“You have to hold on to the hope, Aurora.” She dusts kisses into my hair and her familiar scent fills my nostrils.
She’s not real .
My eyes flutter closed and I wince from the pain I feel down to my bones. It’s so hard to keep fighting when I’m not even sure what I’m fighting for. To get out of here? And then what? Go back to living the life I was before all of this because I know nothing else?
Cutting through my ruminations, her words are hushed and filled with certainty. “He’s coming for you.”
Blinking rapidly, I pull out of her hold, turning to look into her eyes as I try to process what she’s said. “Who is?”
“Romeo’s coming, baby,” she soothes.
Oh. There’s no point in asking her how she knows about him; she’s just my subconscious telling me things I want to hear. I want it to be true so badly because, despite the hurt that he’s caused me, I have utter faith that he would be able to get me out of here. But I know he’s not coming and I can’t feed those dying embers of hope. If I fan the fire, I’ll only be disappointed when reality douses its flames.
Looking up at her, my vision blurs around the edges as I try to memorize the small details I thought I’d forgotten. The more I look at her, the more I question whether I want to leave this room. “I don’t want him to.”
She squeezes my hand, sadness coating the features of her face. Why does it all feel so real? “He’s your happy ever after, Aurora. You were always fated to be together.”
“He left me to die.” My voice cracks.
Her hand slips from mine and I feel the loss of her all over again. My eyes dart around the room, but I come up empty. “Mom. Please, Mom, come back.” The words are raw, coming out in a tortured whisper as darkness surrounds me like a blanket and my eyes flutter closed. Don’t leave me here alone.
Shouting and gunfire penetrates the quiet somewhere in the distance. The noise is only getting louder and more persistent. This isn’t a dream . My brow furrows and I force my heavy eyes open, dragging my body across the room. The instinct to protect myself, urging me on. Each breath as I move feels labored and sends shooting pain through every inch of me.
When I reach the cot, I use the last reserves of energy I didn’t know I had and push the bed further down the wall. Crawling into the space I’ve made, I make myself as small as possible, my eyes trained on the door. My heart beats at an erratic rhythm as I wait to be found.
Please, God, let it be help.