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Aslan
*
(Heart in Finnish: Sydän)
*
Five years earlier...
If I WOULD’VE KNOWN COMING BACK TO life would’ve hurt so much, I wouldn’t have bothered. If I would’ve been told that opening my eyes would condemn me to a fate worse than death...I would’ve happily passed away and been free.
Regardless that I harboured true fear at leaving Neri a widow. Despite my horror at being the one person alive who would hurt her the worst with my death, I was weak enough to admit I would’ve chosen to die that day.
Because all the following days were worse than fucking hell.
It started with a dim ache in my lower left leg that built and built until fire replaced my blood. In the short moments between oblivion and awareness, my body switched from blissfully heavy with sleep to burning alive with motherfucking pain.
So much pain.
Everywhere.
All at once.
I was hot, then cold.
Sweating, then shivering.
My muscles twitched. My heart couldn’t stick to a proper beat, too fast, too slow, skipping and pounding, pounding in my ice-fire chest.
I groaned.
I screamed.
The pain only got worse. Tearing me inside out. Eating me. A thousand teeth were eating me. Chewing their way through my searing veins and gnawing at my frost-frozen bones.
I bowed in bed with a sudden jolt of misery, only to fall backward and gasp for breath.
I was drowning.
Drowning on air.
Choking on oxygen while my heart forgot how to pump.
“Fucking hell, what’s wrong with him?” a man snapped in Turkish. My brain was confused hearing my mother tongue.
“I thought you said he’d wake up after a few hours and be no worse for wear,” the same man snarled. “He’s getting worse. He’s turning grey, for fuck’s sake. His breathing is slowing.”
“Perhaps he’s allergic—”
“Are you trying to blame your incompetence on my son?”
“No, efendim. Of course not.”
“You got the dosage wrong.” A loud crash as if someone had thrown something. “Get my doctor up here. Right now. He’s dying!”
“Yes. Of course. Right away, efendim.” A door banged, leaving silence interrupted by the heavy breathing of someone beside me.
His hand wrapped around mine. His head landed on my shoulder. He sucked in a wet breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “Please, Aslan. Hold on. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. If I wanted you to die, I would’ve used a bullet, not a tranquilliser. Hold on. It will be okay. I promise. Just hold on for me. You’re finally home. You can’t leave me again.”
