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)
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you need to forget it. You must leave this to DeLuca and the others. It’s what they do. They will get revenge for what was done to your father and Niko,” Vic warns.
I know that regardless of my involvement, the men would do as they need to. This is for me, Vic. I need this. It’s the last thing I can do for my father.”
“Emmie, listen to me.”
“I am listening. If it were your father, you’d be just like me. Besides, I’m the only one that can get this particular revenge. And you’re going to help me because until Niko wakes up, there’s no one else.”
“If it were my father, I’d throw them a party.”
“Why?” I ask.
“That’s a story for another time. This is all about you and Niko. I’m all for him waking up, but I think you may have to face the fact that Niko might not survive this. I realize that’s hard to hear, but you heard the doctors. Every day that passes without him waking up means his chances are—”
“Stop! He’s going to wake up. He wouldn’t leave me alone. He just wouldn’t. He’ll fight. That’s who Niko is. A fighter.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you, Emilia.”
“I need time alone with Niko right now,” I murmur, not bothering to deny that I’m distraught. I’m lucky I’m not in a padded cell right now.
“I’m sorry, Emmie…”
“It’s fine, just give me some time alone, please.”
“I’ll be right outside,” he murmurs, slipping out and closing the door quietly behind him.
I can’t handle his negativity right now. I need to be alone. I’m retreating into myself more and more. I can’t even pretend I feel bad about it. I feel as if I’m walking a tight rope while trying to hold everything together, and completely falling apart at the same time. It’s exhausting.
I want to be in Niko’s arms more than anything. I’m scared of hurting him or interfering with all the wires and monitors. Still, the urge to be close to him wins out. I lean on the bed with one knee, trying to get a leg under the wires near his body, which is impossible. I can’t avoid the IV and even with carefully lifting his arm with the heart monitor and blood pressure cuff, the wires get tangled.
I finally just give up and sit on the cold tile floor. I can’t even hold him and that’s all it takes for me to lose my grip. I pull my legs up, curling around myself as the sobs overtake me. Pain is a mysterious thing. I’ve broken my wrist, sprained my ankle and pulled a muscle. All of that caused pain, and yet, it’s nothing compared to the pain I’m feeling right now. I feel so alone. I’ve lost my father. Niko isn’t here and there’s nothing for me in this world now. I’m alone.
I need him to wake up and tell me everything he would’ve said on our next call. I need him to tell me again that he won’t let me push him away. The thought of our last conversation has the air catching in my throat as my body trembles with sobs. I just want Niko to hold me, so I don’t feel so alone.
Oh God, I want my daddy.
The sobs come then, and I close my eyes against the pain. I try to shut out my pain, but I see my father’s face and it feels like a knife is being plunged in my heart.
“Daddy!” I cry out, coughing and spluttering through the tears. I yell it so loud my lungs burn in protest. I scream again, praying it releases some of this agony that I’m drowning in.
My body is shaking violently. It’s so bad that I can’t even wrap my arms around myself. My sobs just keep coming, tearing through me with so much force that my breath comes in short gasps. He asked me to call him daddy more often and now I’ll never get the chance. I should have. Now, I’ll never get the chance.
Tears flow down my face like a river. I’m lost in a sea of guilt and torment. Grief has me completely wrapped up and there’s no way to break free. My body quakes against the tile as I slap my hand down on the floor. “Daddy…” The word is little more than a whisper now, but I keep repeating it like some broken mantra that inflicts invisible wounds with each syllable.
I would have thought it impossible to cry harder, but that’s exactly what happens when Vic pulls me off the floor, walking us over to the couch, holding me closely as we sit down. He shifts me in his lap and begins rocking me silently against him, letting me cry. His callused fingers sift through my hair, and I just cry until eventually the sobs slow down to just a slow stream of tears and hiccups.