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I sighed again.
Would he have such an overwhelming love for our child when he or she was also born? My hands unconsciously moved to my stomach. Seeing Alexander's eagerness to protect his father made me wonder if he would feel such devotion to his child. With how much they seemed to value family and what Tony had told me about Alexander only having his father throughout his life, I did not doubt that Alexander would love and protect our child just as fiercely as he did his father.
But what about me?
I shook my head and covered my eyes. What was I thinking? Why would he care for me? Why would I even want him to care for me? Do I even want him to care for me?
I must be exhausted. That was why I was thinking of such nonsense. I scoffed to myself. I blamed my wild and unrestrained thoughts on my lack of sleep these past few days. I hadn’t been able to sleep properly ever since I found out I was pregnant.
At first, it had been because I had been too shocked at the news, then later, it was due to finding out Alexander was part of the mafia and that my life was in danger. Now, it was because of the scenes of explosions and members of the mafia dying, always flashing behind my eyelids each time I closed my eyes. Each time I found myself trapped in such nightmares, it slowly dawned on me the situation I was in, making me resent Alexander and his father a little bit more.
It was part of why I tended to look pale in the mornings’ asides from the morning sickness. I would end up jerking awake in the middle of the night, the gruesome images flashing through my head, and I would find it difficult to go back to sleep.
I had seen Alexander throwing worried glances at me anytime he saw me, but I didn’t want to tell him why. I was content with him thinking it was the pregnancy symptoms. How would I say to him that he was why I could not sleep peacefully almost every night? Besides, was he worried about our child or me? If he was only concerned because he feared that I was putting our child in danger, then there was no need to burden him with such information.
I rubbed my face. I was tired, and it was just four in the afternoon. I didn’t want to sleep, but I could feel my eyelids growing heavy. I stifled a yawn. Maybe I could take a small nap, but I didn’t want to be haunted by those images. It wasn’t as if I had nightmares every night. There were still nights when I got decent sleep, but I didn’t want to risk it.
But my eyes were already fluttering. It could be different since I was napping during the day. Before I could ponder further, my eyes had already closed, and the familiar darkness of slumber embraced me.
The howling of the wind brought my eyes open. Where was I? Focusing in the dark of night, confusion washed over me as I realized I was in the middle of a deserted street. Well, vacant was an understatement. I wasn’t alone, but I was the only one alive. There were bodies littered all over the concrete ground.
I stared in horror. The surroundings were stained with blood. The smell became obvious, and I felt the need to vomit. The motion was put away and forgotten instantly when the shuffling of feet rustled behind me. Panic. I turned around in a blur, my eyes huge and watery. My stomach stirred in the slightest.
The need to move overtook me, and I felt a sharp ache, my body trying to fight against change. Was I lost? My heart began pounding fast in my chest, the blood pumping through my veins. I took shaky steps in a random direction, not knowing where I was going. I tried my best not to look at the corpses on the ground or think about the squelching sounds my sneakers made when stepping in pools of blood I couldn’t avoid.
I gulped out of nervousness, but the action made me feel nauseous, and it made me feel like I was swallowing stale and bloody air. Not paying attention, I slipped and let out a short scream as I managed to catch myself on a body.
I choked on horror when I discovered exactly what I had landed on. Icy dread filled my veins as I summoned the courage to open my eyes slowly. My gaze first landed on the torso of the dead body. It was riddled with bullet holes. My breath got caught in my throat. No wonder he was dead. No one could survive so many bullets to the body. I could feel myself slowly becoming hysterical until my eyes wandered to the corpse’s face, and I stopped breathing.
Staring at me was a pair of familiar blank, gray eyes. Before, they used to be emotionless, but now, they were lifeless, with no light shining to indicate any sign of vitality in them. It took a while before it clicked to me whom this face belonged to.
Alexander.
I inhaled sharply. This was Alexander. Dead and body riddled with bullets. Was Alexander dead? No. He couldn’t be.
I didn’t know when my hands fisted into his crimson-stained shirt, but I was already screaming at Alexander to wake up by the time I did. My voice was laced with hysteria. I didn’t understand why I was so affected by his death or why I was screaming like a possessed person.
Didn’t I dislike him? Then why was seeing his dead body shock me?
Wasn’t he supposed to protect me? Wasn’t that why Mr. Romano had sent us here? To keep us safe? Then why was he dead? What about our child? Was our child supposed to grow up without a father?
With a choked scream, I jolted awake from the endless dream I had been trapped in, eyes immediately darting around the room in a frenzy. As I gasped for air, I felt my lungs deciding to give up as my breathing quickened even further, my throat barely opening enough to let the needed oxygen inside. It was one of the worst sensations, drowning yet completely bone dry, mouth open as I tried to keep my body working. It was like I was stuck in a vacuum, the world seeming completely silent, only accompanied by my gasps and the rush of blood throbbing in my ears.
I was alone in the bed, feet tangled between the multiple different blankets I had. I knew that Alexander was still alive. I knew it was just a dream, a very terrible dream. I knew Alexander was somewhere in the house, alive and breathing.
Right?
He had to be.
But I was alone. I knew I was alone but needed help, and no one was there. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was dying, suffocating, and nothing was working. Nothing was letting my lungs relax or calm my heart from racing. The covers were hot around me, and I felt almost trapped as I struggled, tears streaming down my face as I tried to separate myself from the tangled sheets, but nothing gave way.
It felt like a battle, like hundreds of hands were keeping me in place, winding the covers further and further around my body until it was impossible to be released. Trying to do something rational, I put all my efforts into finding the end of the sheets, my fingers shaking and searching until I grasped the edge with the plastic disks. I could tear the blankets away, the blood-red color making my vision almost tunnel as images of the blood from my nightmare appeared in his mind, the red liquid dripping through my eyes.
I needed Alexander. I just needed to know that he was alive and not in the state my mind had conjured him to be.
I couldn’t muster the breath to shout or spot a phone or anything to help shut the bedroom door and hide any noise from inside.
In my attempt to get help, I pulled myself up from the bed, knees buckling almost instantaneously, forcing me to use the bedpost as a support. I tried to stumble forward in the general direction of the door. Still, I fell to the carpet, feeling the rug sliding against my skin, stinging like needles. I had to almost crawl over the floor as my head spun, the sensation making me unable to stand as the world tipped sideways. It felt like a rollercoaster ride, one with a thousand loops, and I wanted it to end, but I was stuck behind the safety bar, unable to get off.
