Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“You know?”
I hear them chattering and I’m getting tired. I feel the darkness creeping up on me again. I’m so tired of fighting it. I’m so confused. Was I shot? What friend do I have that they’re talking about? Was Emilia shot? Fear hits me so strong, that my body begins trembling. I jerk trying to sit up, but it’s like I’m weighed down by a thousand-pound weight.
“Mr. Petrova, it’s okay. Calm down. You may hurt yourself. Dr. Monroe will be here in just a minute,” one of them says, but I can feel myself breaking through, so I keep trying. I need to get to Emilia.
“You see! You got after me, but this was your fault. You shouldn’t have told him about Mr. Korslova dying.”
Mr. Korslova dying.
Everything hits me at once. Memories coming slamming back inside of me. I remember having lunch with Maxwell. We were talking and I was looking forward to calling Emilia. Maxwell and I were talking and then… Shots rang out and one hit Maxwell. I heard his gasp, gurgled surge of breath and then the blood running down his face.
“No!” I scream. I thrust up in the bed, my eyes opening to a blinding light, but it’s not enough to erase the memory of watching Maxwell die.
Suddenly, I wish I had let the darkness claim me.
CHAPTER 41
Emilia
I bury my head into Vic’s shoulder as he carries me into the house and makes a beeline for Niko’s office. My eyes are dry and itchy from breaking down on the ride home. Tonight was much worse than I thought it would be. My anxiety and panic merged together, and I couldn’t hold it together I’m grateful that Vic is the only one who witnessed it. Heck, I can’t even remember most of it. That’s a sign of just how bad it was. Now, I’m left with the aftermath. My face is wet and sticky, Vic’s shirt is wet and when I tried to stand, my knees buckled. He walks straight to the sofa and gently puts me down. I’m sure I look like a hot mess but there’s not much I can do about it.
My shame is overwhelming as I realize I keep struggling to keep it together. Everyone treats me nicely, but the pity in their eyes is getting old. I need to pull my shit together. Vic sits down so we are knee to knee and puts his hands on each of my legs. He leans down until we are looking eye to eye.
I spent the last hour hearing condolences. Each one just cementing that I will never see my father again. I wanted to scream at them to stop. I didn’t, but it was getting harder and harder to hold it in. Being back here doesn’t help matters. I have no hope left. Niko isn’t waking up. His funeral will be next. The thought kills me, but I can’t deny it any longer. If it wasn’t for the fact that I want people to pay for this, I would give up. They could bury me right alongside him. I don’t know how to face the future without him or my father in it. I don’t think I’m strong enough.
I inhale, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Slowly, I push away the morbid thoughts. I used to be so optimistic, but now, I welcome the darkness inside me. There is no light. There’s nothing.
“Are you okay?” he asks gently.
No. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be okay again,” I tell him as my voice cracks. A sob threatens to burst from my throat, but I swallow it down. “I’m surviving. I think. Except for this migraine I feel starting.”
Crying my eyes out and then having to stand there and listen to everyone tell me how much they will miss my father is not a good combination.
“Sit here. I’ll go get you some medicine,” he says, nodding in understanding.
“Why are you always so nice to me, Vic?”
Everyone has been sympathetic, overly so, but Vic has gone above and beyond to help hold the broken pieces inside of me, together. I don’t understand why.
He gets to his feet, leaning over to kiss the top of my head. “I’ll be right back,” he murmurs.
“I’ll do my best not to embarrass us both and fall asleep on you tonight.” I didn’t want to address the elephant in the room, but it’s getting to be too much. If I don’t joke about it, the awkwardness about it will just continue to build inside of me.
“It wasn’t that bad,” he says, cracking a smile. “But you do snore.”
“I do not,” I protest.
“Yeah, Em, you do.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re a jerk.”
“Yeah, believe it or not, you’re not the first to say that,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ll go get you some medicine.”