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"Artemis isn’t..." I started to talk until I heard her voice.
"Mommy!" She screeched. That was a terrified four-year-old there, hanging on for dear life. She was in the hands of a fourth person, dangling over the edge of the balcony.
Hang in there, baby.
"There's only two ways this ends, Alessandro," the man in the balcony seethed. "Either I tire out and drop the baby or you shoot me, and I drop the baby. Either way, she's going to be dropped."
"There's a third. Let her go and I'll let you live, Giuseppe. I swear it," Alessandro said with a straight face. I could only imagine the pressure he was under, yet he managed to keep it together. Without him right now, I'd probably have done something completely unreasonable.
"Live for what? Huh. You've decimated my men, killed my sons...only these three remain. Sooner or later, you'd have killed them too. Picking them off like weeds, you incongruous bastard." His voice was strong, but they needn't break or falter. They already portrayed various emotions in that tone.
I am seeing this now. I remembered the conversation Alessandro and I had in his office. There were three of Giuseppe’s sons left. These three? They had guns in their hands and held positions, but they were far too outnumbered to act.
"You know what," Giuseppe cocked his head like he had a change of heart. One second, Artemis was dangling from his hands. The next, All I could hear was her perturbed screech before she descended down away from our vision and into the concrete pavement below.
I don't know what point I had run, but shortly into time, I was staring at my limp daughter from upstairs. I didn't know why they were holding me back... Alessandro till today keeps insisting that I had tried to jump, even though I don't remember it. All I wanted was to get to my baby.
"Suffer, you wretched vermin. Suffer what I had suffered." The balding man leered before Alessandro knocked him down. The same way I was still being dragged out of the room was the same way the other three men were dragged. I don't know where Alessandro had that strength from, but he pulled Giuseppe’s limp body by the hair till we all got back outside where they released me and watched me run to my daughter.
I was so grateful to Giuseppe for dropping her so shabbily. Even though her head had taken some damage, she was relatively fine and even still conscious... but barely. Alessandro came to my side to see her. "Get Paul now. We need to get to the nearest hospital."
He turned back and went to Giuseppe. He put a hand on him and sank slowly. The man screamed. That was when I saw the knife go into his thigh. This was going to be slow and torturous. I didn't want to look, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the screams that emanated from his mouth. Soon the screams of the other men joined the chorus, and they drowned out my own cries. Alessandro talked all through the torturous execution, but never once in English.
I can't say what happened afterwards or however exactly they died, but one thing was certain. It wasn't an easy death.
The car sped into the compound shortly and Paul helped carry Artemis into the car. I didn't know how much was broken and I didn't want her to feel uncomfortable. I was surprised that Alessandro was able to find the time to get into the car with me and take a trip to the hospital.
"Okay, I am calm," I told Alessandro who had been trying to get me to sit down for the past thirty minutes.
"Sienna, you behave like a mother hen whose last child was taken by a hawk," he deadpanned. "Sit down. Relax your nerves."
"But that's what it is isn't it? That's what I am. I'm a mother hen with my son, in this case, only child Artemis and the hawk is that bastard," I cursed.
"I'm terrible with analogies," he face-palmed himself.
Heh. Did he just now get that?
It had been more than three hours. I had slept and woke up three times already and when I couldn't handle it, I simply began pacing. For morality’s sake, we were able to convince Mrs. Ricci to go home and get some rest. Only Alessandro and I remained.
How long does it take to apply a suture?
Just then, a surgeon came out from the hall where the theater was. He was heading the opposite way from where I was, but I was unaware of that fact and ran fast after him.
"Doctor, how is my daughter? How is the surgery?"
He walked with calculated expertise and kept his face straight ahead as he talked to me. "The injuries were severe, but she'll pull through with a smile on her face, even. No broken bones... big surprise. Just a heavy sprain on her ankles. She'd limp for a week or two, but generally perfect there. Our main issues were with her head. There's a lot of damage to her tissues, but nothing we couldn't take care of."
Within the next thirty minutes, however, they announced that they were finally done with the operation. An hour later, the last of the plastic surgeons responsible for the stitching of the head filed out of the ward. They then transported her to an ICU to recover fully.
"Why the ICU?" Alessandro asked with furrowed brows.
"What is the ICU?" I asked.
"Intensive care unit. It’s where they take people who need really specialized treatment, which is why I'm wondering why there," he answered my question patiently.
"Mr. and Mrs. Ricci?" The doctor that we met the first time we got here addressed us.
I would have tried to clear the misconception, but I thought too much of my daughter to even give more than two seconds of dwelling thoughts to that.
