As I fight my eyes open, everything comes into focus all at once. The lights glare at me, the noises of hospital machinery and monitors invade my hearing, along with the hustle and bustle from what I assume is just outside of my hospital door. I close my eyes, not willing to deal with the reality.
"C'mon, sweetheart, open those eyes for me. You need to wake up." Although I can hear every ounce of gratefulness, the undertone of sorrow rings out, my heart rate accelerating as I worry about him. "Amelia, calm down. You just need to open your eyes. We're all here."
“Come on, Lia,” Carlo encourages me, showing that he, too, is here with me. “It’s time to wake up.” He struggles to crack a joke but fails miserably to the extent of watching me in, what I assume, is a coma has truly worn him down.
As my eyes flutter open, I find Zane standing over me, and everything is overpowering and terrifying as I struggle to comprehend anything around me. Even as Zane begins to beam a little, I find myself waning. Tiredness strives to win, clinging so fiercely to me.
“No, Amelia, you need to stay awake,” he pleads, that same distraught ring to his voice comes back. “C’mon, sweetheart, you’ve been asleep long enough.” As he says that, I open my eyes and look straight at him.
His stubble is no longer refined to that delicate peppering across his jaw but is now unruly and rugged. His entire face is shrouded by tiresome worry, his eyes red raw, and it’s at this moment that I catch that twinkle in his eyes, the one that isn’t a dazzling trait of his, but the wash of tears as they cover his eyes with a thick film.
“Don’t cry,” I whisper, my throat is beyond dry and coarse. “It’ll ruin your alpha maleness.”
“I’m just so happy to see you wake up,” he gruffly respond, his voice thick with tears.
I cough, closing my eyes as the roughness feels like razor blades lining my throat. Actually, I think that would be more fucking pleasant than how I’m feeling right now.
“Enz?” I ask, quietly so not to upset my throat more. “Manuel? How are they?” I open my eyes as silence takes over the room. “They got hurt. Gio,” I start, pausing to lick my lips before I continue, “he hurt them.” I now look at my brother, hoping for some sort of information that’ll calm me. “Are they okay?”
“Enzo’s resting a little down the hall,” Carlo chirps up. He’s standing directly at the foot of my bed, his hands wrapped around the post. “He’s quite badly hurt, but he’s expected to make a quick recovery.”
“And Manuel?” I ask, my face scrunching up considerably as I struggle to work out what’s going on. They’re being evasive with their attitude and responses.
"Manuel," Carlo breathes; it's shaky, difficult, and I know what he's going to say before he says it. He can’t even look at me now. "Manuel's gone, Lia." Carlo’s voice shrinks to a bare whisper, but it screams with so many connotations that he didn’t need to speak any louder.
I watch as a sliver of tears rushes down Carlo's cheek, flowing over the contours of his face. I rarely see Carlo cry, but for him to do so now, so unashamedly, makes my entire body begin to shut down. This can't be. I just woke up; I should be told that he and Enzo are doing the same.
"H-his injuries were too extensive," he continues, a clear ebb of guilt weeps into his voice. "He was gone before help could get to him." Carlo's grip on the end railing of my bed tightens so much his knuckles shine a bright white, and he tries to control himself, but he's mere moments from breaking and shattering. He's trying to hold strong through the numb silence I've presented him with, but my reaction is his undoing apparently. "I'm so sorry."
He flees the room, a sob escaping him as he does so.
"Amelia," Zane's soft tone bursts into the bubble I've locked myself into. The tenderness and the comfort he offers me finally tears apart that trance I've enlisted.
"No," I whisper, shaking my head. Through the fog, I'm trying to make sense of everything, but it's difficult and I struggle to piece together the delicate information I've been given. He can't be dead. He can't be gone. He can't have left us in the evilest way possible. He's still alive. He has to be. "No," I murmur again; this time my mumble is to tell the ludicrous notions trying to win over my denial that it's all a disgusting lie. "He can't be. No," I say, this time as Zane's hand touches mine. Tears begin to burn my eyes, coming forth in ripples as my brain enters total meltdown. "No," I whisper once more this time as my heart begins to race, ignoring all sense. I'm becoming undone, cracking into pieces as grief prepares to ravage me. “No,” I whisper, shaking my head to deny the devilish lie he told me. I hear Zane talking, but it’s nothingness compared to the screaming going on inside my head. “No, no, no.”
I don’t remember much as that blackness takes advantage and claws me back into its beautiful abyss.
***