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Chapter Twelve
Alex
WAKING UP, THE first thing I hear is the beeping of some sort of machine. I’d say it was my alarm clock, but the thing is annoying as hell, so I know it’s not that. Secondly, I smell the strong scent of antiseptic and bleach. I’m in a fucking hospital, and the incessant beeping is my heart rate. I try to open my eyes to look around. Troy would never let me be treated willingly. In the past, when I’ve been taken to the hospital, it was due to an employee of his who couldn’t stand to see me beaten up and bleeding as bad as I was. Hell, even when I’ve had broken bones, he hasn’t allowed me to be treated unless someone else took me to the hospital. At the end of the day, they usually suffered greatly at my husband’s hands before they were terminated and tossed out on their ass.
The last thing I remember is a needle being jammed in my neck back at the prison I called home for so long. I’m not sure what the hell they were injecting me with, but it was something to knock me out. In fact, it knocks me out quicker than any pain medicine I’ve ever taken in my life. Troy knows just how much to give me, so he doesn’t accidentally kill me that way. Although, I’m sure his ultimate goal is to kill me. It still doesn’t explain how I ended up in a hospital, to begin with.
Struggling to open my eyes, the heart monitor goes crazy as a panic attack begins to take hold of me. When my eyes finally crack open, the first person I see is Reaper. He’s sitting in a chair right next to the edge of my bed, asleep with his head leaning against the lumpy mattress under my body. He’s not even touching my arm or any part of my body in case he hurts me, I imagine. I feel like I’ve been hit several times by a Mack truck. This man looks as sexy as he did when I first laid eyes on him, even if he looks completely uncomfortable and rumpled from whatever the hell has been happening while I was out of it.
Reaper’s head is slumped forward on the bed, and his eyes are closed as his face is pointed in my direction. I want to reach out and touch him, but the pain radiating through my body prevents me from doing so. The next best thing I can do is try to call out to him. Virtually no sound comes from my mouth. My voice is weak, and my throat hurts and feels scratchy. I’m not sure if I was choked out this time while I was knocked out, but it sure as hell feels like it. Yes, I know what it feels like to be choked by my husband. It’s not something I ever wanted to experience again, but I apparently did.
His head immediately pops up, and his gaze connects with mine. Well, what I can see at any rate. My heartstrings are pulled with the stark relief flooding his face and filling his eyes. Reaper jumps from the chair he’s been sleeping in for who knows how long, and a cup is held close enough I can reach the straw as he points it in my direction.
“Go slow, darlin’,” he says, his voice husky and rough from sleep.
After I’ve had a few small sips of the ice-cold water, he sets the cup back down on the tray at the side of my bed. He pulls the chair closer to my bed and reaches out to lay his hand on mine. I want to turn my hand over and hold his, but I can’t with the IV in the back of my hand. So, I leave it how it is and let his warmth seep into my cold, aching body. I’m so cold as I lay here on the hospital bed, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be warm again, even with Reaper’s body heat slowly soaking into my own body.
“It’s so good to see you awake,” he says, his voice full of anguish.
“How long have I been here?” I ask, my voice sounding foreign to my ears with its gravelly quality.
“About two weeks now. The doctors wanted to give your body time to heal from your injuries. They’ve had you in a medically induced coma until yesterday,” he says, pain still filling his voice.
“Okay,” I say, drawing out the word as I try to get my hand around what I’ve just been told.
“Darlin’, you have a lot of injuries. You’ve got a few broken ribs, both of your arms were dislocated, and bruisin’ all over your body and head. There are multiple cuts on your body as well. Some of them had to be stitched closed, while the rest have closed and are healing on their own. I’ve got other news for you too. We’ll wait for that until you’re awake more and feelin’ up to it,” he says, instantly putting me on alert.
“Please, just tell me now,” I say as my heart rate begins to spike again.
“Troy is in jail. I don’t know what’s goin’ to happen to him, but the cops are waitin’ to talk to you and get your side of the story. He’s lookin’ to go away for a long time,” he informs me, keeping all emotion from his voice.
“I’ll talk to them whenever I have to. I want him put away for a long time and to be out of my life for good,” I tell him, looking up at him. “I’m surprised you didn’t kill him.”
“Trust me, I wanted to more than anythin’. Not only did he take you from me, but he also put his fuckin’ hands on you,” Reaper tells me, leaning down to carefully kiss the back of my hand.
“When can I go home?” I ask. “I don’t even have a home to go to. What am I gonna do now?”
Tears fill my eyes and threaten to spill over at the thought I have nowhere to go now. I’ve always wanted to settle down in one spot and build a life. It hasn’t been possible with Troy and my dad after me. There’s a dream I have no one knows about too. I want to open a dance studio. When I was younger, I danced and kept at it until Troy forced me to stop because he didn’t like the outfits I had to wear and the leotards I wore to dance class. To him, I was purposely showing off my body to others around me, seeking attention from men even though I was with him.
“You got a home with me. I want you to come back to Clinton,” Reaper says, pulling my face gently up so he can wipe my tears away. “We’ll find out when you can leave as soon as the doctor comes in.”
“I bring so much trouble with me. Just because Troy is in jail doesn’t mean trouble won’t still come your way,” I say, looking up into his eyes even if my sight is blurry with tears and the swelling still keeping my eyes so they won’t open as much as normal.
“You think I’m scared of a bitch like Troy or your father? Fuck that. I got your back, always, and I want you to be mine,” he tells me, the conviction he’s feeling evident in his voice. “I want you as my ol’ lady, my wife, and the Queen of the club.”
I nod my head, knowing this is the right decision for me. It’s the first time I’ve ever thought of myself and not made a decision based on what my parents or husband wanted me to do. I’m not sure what makes me believe going with Reaper is right, but there’s something in my gut telling me he’s the man for me. The only man who will love me without hurting me physically. I have no doubt we’ll argue, and I’m okay with that. Reaper is the only man I want, and I want to see where this thing goes with him. If we end in a few months, at least I’ll know I tried to make things work with him.
Before anything else can be said, the door opens to show a woman. She’s looking at a chart until looking over at the bed and realizing I’m awake. For a minute, she does nothing more than look over me with shock in her eyes as if I’m not supposed to be awake. There is something hidden in the depths of her eyes I can’t quite make out as she continues to stare at me.
“Mrs. Torres, it’s so good to see you awake,” she says, trying to cover herself. “I’m Doctor Catalina.”
“Hello,” I say, trying to figure out what the look in her eyes is.
“How are you feeling?” she questions, never really looking at me as Reaper’s hold tightens slightly on my hand.
“I’m sore and very tired. I want to get out of here, though,” I tell her, waiting for a reaction out of her.
“I want to keep you a few more days to make sure nothing else is wrong with you,” the doctor says, looking at Reaper instead of me.
