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“Not until you do…”
“Closer…” she breathes. I know she’s referring to the police circling. But I don’t care. I’m not leaving her. The lights, they whirl and taunt me, knocking on the back of my head. But I’m not turning around. Not until she’s ready…
Aria had just walked away. They were still struggling to get to the van, based on what I can see from the silhouettes retreating in the night.
She needs to make it out of here. That’s what matters.
She’d been reading me as I begged and pleaded with Madam Rosa to hang on just a little longer. I had never felt so vulnerable.
So seen…
“I-I love you….” I say to her just as her eyes grow wide, no longer blinking. She’s starting to spasm. Her body is twisting and turning… and my God, she looks like she’s in so much pain at that moment and all I can do is sit there and watch. Helpless. Weak.
She gurgles through a few breaths and I watch as she tries to lift her hand up to my cheek. “Tony…” she bubbles from her mouth.
I hack and sob. “Mom…Just relax…” I say, desperately.
And with that, she took her final breath. A single tear rolls softly down her cheek. I fall backward on the ground and scream. Years of torment and pain roar from my mouth at that moment. I’m sure it echoes in the clouds and I’m sure the police have heard it.
But I don’t care…
I lay a kiss on her forehead, and know it’s time. I need to get the hell out of here. I need to get to Aria.
“If you did, would it have mattered?”
“Honestly, no. It wouldn’t have mattered… But, I didn’t know you then…”
I can’t believe I believed the rumors.
How stupid could I have been? Aria would have never killed her children’s father.
I push myself off the sofa table and immediately, I feel myself getting…faint….
“You look really pale…” she says, worriedly, as she charges the rest of the way to me. My vision blurs, and I feel my body break out in a sweat. I’m breathless…
My eyes flutter open and my head rings with grogginess. I feel something next to me, and when I shift my eyes toward it, I jump.
It’s Aria.
She’s sitting in the chair beside me, slumped forwards onto the hospital bed. She must have pulled the chair up as far as it could go to my bed railing because her head is resting just next to me. She’s nestled snugly on top of her arm, and her hand is next to mine, her fingers lightly touching my wrist.
Her head is tilted slightly. Her gorgeous locks were spread out in gentle waves behind her head and her lips were visible …but only barely. They were bruised, but parted gently and a small noise was puttering out of her mouth.
I chuckle and her forehead crinkles faintly. Her face is pale and drawn; she’s clearly exhausted. Her wrists are bandaged. The cut on her cheek looks taken care of, too.
I can’t help but wonder how long she’d been asleep. Hell, how long had I been here?
Shouldn’t she be here? And not me?
She was the one kidnapped for days and beaten and battered.
I was content watching her sleep. The light shining in from the blinds cast her face in shadow and glistened softly over her hair. I caress her hand with mine. My eyes study her face. I note every detail and slowly, I stretch out my hand to stroke her cheek. Such a small touch… but it was kindling…
It fed a fire in my chest…
I continue to wonder how this happened, but fall on the fact that it really doesn’t matter.
The fact of it is, it did happen; and I felt it.
