Tatiana
Chapter thirty-three
Roman looks destroyed, and I can’t do anything about it. My thoughts are slow and don’t quite finish themselves. I’m not sure if it’s the concussion or the drugs, but I try to keep my eyes focused on my father.
Niko comes back from the hallway, looking over his shoulder and looking confused. I worry about what was said between him and Lev. But right now my father is glaring at me like I personally offended him.
But if I look at Roman too long, he’ll know. And I need to keep my father’s attention on me and not Ro.
I pull up every ounce of joy I can find or fake and plaster a smile on my face. “The doctor says I can go home tomorrow. Nothing’s broken, just a little concussion.”
“You’ll come home now, and Dr. Morozov can monitor you,” my father barks back.
“Get her discharge papers,” he tells Niko before I can object.
If I go home, it’s over. All of it. Roman and Lev go back to being my bodyguards.
Mik goes back to my best friend. I imagine never feeling Roman’s lips on mine again.
I imagine never touching Mik again. I imagine never hearing Lev’s voice in my ear.
Tears form immediately in my eyes, and my nose burns from trying to suppress them.
Roman begins to object, but is silenced by a glare from my father.
My father looks around the room. “Do you not have any clothes?”
This is really happening. It’s completely out of my control.
I can feel myself start to shut down; to retreat back inside of myself when I’m feeling overwhelmed and out of control.
No one negotiates with Dmitri Chernov. I know we agreed to the rules in that cabin, that we’d go back to normal, but there’s no way I could now.
I’m in love, finally; with three of the best men I’ve ever met.
How am I supposed to go on with my life having tasted what love truly is and never having it again?
Worse than that, being reminded all day, every day, that they’re not dead, we’re not broken up, that they’re right there and still untouchable.
It sounds like a fate worse than death.
I feel small and vulnerable in just this gown that ties at the back of my neck and waist, but that I have to hold closed in the back to not flash anyone.
My father sticks his head out into the hallway and grabs a nurse, telling her to take out my IV and discharge me. He’s in a rush, and I can’t understand the urgency. My brain simply won’t process what’s happening and why.
All I can do is watch as the nurse does as she’s told. I swing my legs to the side of the bed and wince at the pain in my hip. I stand and hold on to the bed for a moment as I sway. My head feels full, and my brain feels like an ocean swaying against my skull.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Roman’s worried look. But he can’t touch me, even to help me. Those are the rules.
My father grips my good arm above the elbow and helps steady me as he drags me toward the door. If my head wasn’t so foggy, maybe I’d understand what’s happening more, but as it is, all I can do is follow.
The drive home is quiet. Roman had escorted me to my father’s town car, but then left, I assume, to find Lev.
My father’s men are protection enough right now, I guess.
My brother and father sit in silence, typing away on their phones. I wait for them to ask me how I’m feeling, or offer their sympathy, but it never comes, so I simply stare out of the window as the city slides past the glass.
“Sell the horse,” my father says, and it takes me a few seconds to process his words. Fear grips my chest in a vice.
“What? No! It wasn’t her fault! She slipped. I should have put studs on her shoes!” I argue, but my words fall on deaf ears.
“On it,” Niko replies. And now I don’t even fight the tears.
I look at the two men who should love me more than anything, and I can’t believe the feelingless shells of men sitting across from me.
They don’t care about me. They don’t even know me.
If they did, they would know how much of a death sentence that is to me.
Juliet is my heart horse - part of my heart and soul.
If my soul lived outside of my body, it would live inside of her.
She’s my friend, my therapist, my partner, and I’ve had her for a decade.
I’d get rid of my right arm before I ever let her go. And just like that, my father has no trouble taking her away from me. My head aches harder now as the tears pour from my eyes and land on my hospital gown.
If they don’t love me like I want them to, why do they even care that I got hurt?
“There’s nothing I can do to convince you otherwise?” I ask, my voice small but steady.
Finally, my father bothers to look at me. “You could have died today. I’m not willing to risk my only daughter for some silly hobby.”
My chin quivers as I press my lips together. That’s it. Judge, jury, and executioner.
Not only have I lost three men that I love, but I’ve lost the only people on this earth that love me back, and now my only friend. I’ve lost my degree, my apartment, my freedom. I’ve lost everything.
There’s nothing left.
As we pull into the gates of the mansion I used to call home, I feel a thick and heavy depression blanket me. I don’t know if it’s meant to keep me from hurting, but the numbness spreads through my veins until I feel nothing at all.