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He lowered his gaze to the floor, grumbling, “I'm fine, Val.”
I gnawed the inside of my cheek as I crossed my arms over my chest, analyzing his face. He was lying. I knew that expression anywhere. As if his body reacted on cue to his lie and my realization, he began to slowly bob his head as his body shivered.
“Marco?”
He started to sway, ignoring me as he stared at the wall. I grabbed his black jacket, finding a hole. I felt a wet sensation on my hand. Yanking it back, I turned my palm face up. Blood! Yanking his jacket open, I realized his abdomen covered in a significant amount of blood seeping through his white shirt.
“Merda!” I cursed. “Someone help!”
His body crumbled to the floor, but he grabbed my biceps on the way down, pulling me to the floor with him as his eyes rolled sideways. I hovered over him on my knees, ripping his red stained, buttoned shirt apart. A gunshot wound on the left side of his abdomen was visible. Without hesitation, I applied as much pressure as possible.
I was shortly pulled out of the way by hospital staff as they took over his care. Placing him on a gurney, they wheeled him away as quickly as possible. I remained on the floor, covered in blood that was not my own, leaning my head back on the wall behind me. I stared robotically at the ceiling tiles, with my arms draped over my bent knees.
I was now realizing the entire night was turning into an even bigger nightmare. Vaguely, I overheard Giacomo on a phone call with Blaine. I buried my face into my blood soaked hands, taking shallow, shaky breaths.
A nurse squatted next to me, resting her hand on my shoulder. “What is his name?”
“Marco Greco.” I sighed, mumbling. “He's my brother, please save him.”
The entire world moved in slow motion and I watched her sprint down the corridor toward Marco. The hallway spun as I gradually came to my feet, taking a deep, agonizing breath. I glanced at the room numbers, taking note of where we were, trying to maintain my focus. Swiping my sleeve across my face, I wiped some blood off and smeared the rest.
Someone stepped over to the blood on the floor, cleaning it as I ran my fingers through my messy, black hair. I took another deep breath and carefully trudged to Tanya's room. I passed many rooms on the way and for some reason, I found myself glancing in all the open doors. Normally I did not pay much attention to other people when I was upset, but I extensively studied everything around me.
I passed a room with the mother and kids I saw in the waiting area. She stood over the bed holding both of her children as she wept over the body of a man who was hooked up to many machines. The little girl I made eye contact with before, glanced at me. A tear rolled down her cheek and she rapidly looked away, burying her face into her mother's shoulder. My eyes lowered to the floor as I continued walking. I passed four more rooms before I came to Tanya's.
Poking my head in, I knocked at the same time. She was reclined in bed alone, hooked up to an IV. She was staring silently out the window at the nighttime city lights as they flickered outside.
She did not turn to face me as I made my way over to the bed, perching on the edge. I placed my hand on her knee. She instantly covered her face, beginning to weep.
“Liam--,” is all she could choke out before her emotions completely overcame her.
I slid closer to her, wrapping my arms around her body. “He'll be okay,” I mumbled into the top of her head.
“You don't know that.”
“I do,” I tried not to show my sadness and remained strong. “He has to be.”
“Where's Isabelle?” she sobbed.
“She's resting and will be fine.”
She sighed unsteadily, stuttering, “Y-you should g-go back to h-her.”
“How is the baby?” I slid away a few inches, resting a hand on her knee once again.
She gazed down at her stomach, rubbing her small baby bump, “Tough as beef jerky.”
I chuckled, “Good.”
Just then, her doctor entered the room. “Oh hello,” he stated, seeming somewhat shocked.
I stood, stepping to the side out of the way, but observing closely as he examined her progress in front of me.
“Your wife will be okay.”
“Oh no,” I smirked, “she's--.”
“He's my brother.”
