“I understand everything, Dad. I do have to say though, you look like shit,” I blurt out. He smirks.
“You think? I probably smell worse than I look. I haven’t showered in four damn days.”
“Four days? That’s how long I’ve been out?”
He lifts his eyes from mine to Cain’s.
“Dad?”
He exhales.
“You’ve been in and out for two weeks, Calla,” Cain says from behind me.
My body is stiff. How I manage to flip over to face him is beyond me. This is my first glimpse of him in two weeks. He has days of scruff on his face, his eyes bloodshot from what I guess is lack of sleep.
“Two weeks?”
That’s impossible. In and out without even realizing that two weeks have passed? Something is not right.
“What is it you three are hiding from me? Is something wrong?”
I may feel weak and somewhat lost, but for God’s sake, if I can handle what happened to me, then I sure as hell can handle whatever they are hiding from me.
“Dad. Please?”
His eyes dart from mine to Cain’s. Whatever it is, it’s bad. The last time I saw this pained expression on my dad’s face was the night he told me he was Salvatore’s hitman. I’m starting to become agitated.
“I’m not a child. I have a right to know!” I insist.
“All right, calm down. It’s not you. You’re going to be fine. The doctors had to keep you in a drug-induced coma. You were so banged up. So drugged up. Hell, with the amount of heroin they injected into you in such a short period of time, we’re damn lucky you’re alive.”
I rest my head back on my pillow, grabbing both Cain’s and my father’s hands. Manny stands at the end of my bed.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I had no choice but to allow them to keep you under,” Cain whispers.
“It’s okay. I’m just a little taken back. I knew they drugged me. I knew it was heroin, but my God, enough to truly kill me?”
I lift my head. The pain in my shoulder is merely an ache.
“And what about you, Manny? Are you really okay?”
He looks great, actually. Traces of yellowish color spread across one cheek and under one eye. Other than that, he looks like Manny.
“I’m fine. My pinky finger is gone.”
He lifts up his left hand to show me his bandaged up stump.
“Oh, Manny. I’m so sorry,” I say sincerely.
“Stop. There will be none of this ‘I’m sorry’ bullshit. We survived. Very few people do. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I couldn’t do a damn thing to save you from the shit my brother was doing to you and then that cunt. I hope she is living the true meaning of hell right now. Burning for eternity is too good for that dumb bitch.”
I can’t help myself. I start to laugh. I laugh so hard my stomach starts to hurt.
“So true!” I finally say. “And your brother is right there with her.”
The room goes eerily quiet. I look at all three of them in confusion. Again, an unsettling feeling overwhelms me.
“Royal’s not dead.”
Manny stops laughing before those dreaded words come out of his mouth. I feel myself gripping their hands even tighter. Tight enough to feel a stinging sensation.
“Shit. It’s my fault,” says my dad. My lips begin to tremble.
“I don’t understand.”
“Calla. Listen to me. I shot him in the shoulder. It’s the first time I have ever missed a mark. This is on me. I lost focus.”
I really take in my dad’s appearance. This is bothering him more than he is letting on. I’m back to the eyes. Always the eyes. He’s beating himself up over this. I won’t allow it.