SIX.

The sound of numerous machines beeping finds me through a sea of darkness. Pulling me out of a never-ending vortex I’ve been stuck in for days.

I have gone from one hell hole to another, and yet, here I am, still alive and breathing.

I am a survivor.

It appears that the devil himself is not ready for me either.

My nostrils begin to sting with the potent smell of antiseptic with undertones of artificial fragrances like soap and… cleaning products.

Groaning, I lift my hand to wipe the tip of my nose that burns from breathing and I feel something sharp stabbing my arm, restricting my movements.

What the…oh, fuck… my head.

Why is it pounding, and why are my ears fucking ringing?

“Miss Bishop, can you please open your eyes?” An unfamiliar voice reaches me through the darkness that continues to cling to me.

Clenching my jaw, I sigh and slowly begin to peel back my eyelash curtains to unveil my throbbing eyes. Squinting, I try to open them wider, fighting against the bright white light that hangs over me, viciously stabbing my eyeballs.

“Raise her bed, but be careful of the lines in her arm,” the deep, unfamiliar voice speaks again.

Just as the mysterious man had ordered, the top half of the bed gradually begins to rise until I am sitting in an upright position. 

My eyelashes flutter with my eyelids as my gaze adjusts to the light. And in a matter of moments, I open my eyes wide to find my father sitting on the end of the bed with an edgy and tiresome expression displayed across his face.

“Dad?” I whisper, feeling like my voice box has been slashed to hell.

“It’s me, pumpkin,” he replies, shuffling up the bed.

He picks my hand up, raises it to his mouth, and places a soft kiss on the inside of my palm. A wall of unshed tears blurs his vision.

“Did he do this to you?” My father asks in a trembling tone, with his gaze fixating on my hand as he places it back on the bed.

I can sense the guilt that consumes him. The guilt eating away at him like maggots feasting on a rotting corpse. The very sensation that has no right to infect his fragile heart.

My nostrils flare as I look around the room and can’t believe that Don Valentino has put me in the hospital. He is a monster, and he will regret the day that he did this to me. 

I will be a thorn in his ass, and I will swallow every bit of pain he inflicts on me. For those wounds will heal, and I will never give up.

“Ho.. How did I get here?” I swallow thickly, wincing in pain. “Can I get some water?”

“Take small sips, you have been unconscious for the past three days. Your body won’t be able to digest a large amount of water for, at least, another forty-eight hours.” Turning my head to the side, I gaze up to find the doctor holding a paper cup with a straw popping out the top next to my mouth.

“I can-”

“Go on, I promise not to bite.” He interjects, cutting me off before I could tell him that I am quite capable of holding the cup myself, even though every inch of my body hurts like a bitch.

“Ivy, dear.” My father pipes in sternly, giving me a gentle warning not to be rude.

A small smile creeps along my cheeks, “thank you,” I mutter, leaning to the side and I take a small sip from the cup that is filled with water at room temperature.

Water that isn’t going to quench my thirst.

“That will be enough for now,” the doctor says, pulling the cup and straw away. “I will have a nurse bring you a cup with some ice cubes for you to suck on after I leave the room.”

Raising my brows, I nod my head and look back at my father, wondering if the doctor had miraculously heard my thoughts.

“Now, first off, I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Dr. Segar and I’ve been responsible for your recovery since your arrival. Secondly, to answer your previous question, you were brought in by an ambulance.”

“Brought in by an ambulance?” I repeat after him, trying to figure out what happened after I had fallen and hit my head in the abandoned building I was dragged to by Don Valentinos’ goons.

“Yes, you were found on the grass underneath a tree at a playground. Do you have any recollection of how you got there or what happened to you?” Dr. Segar asks me as he looks at me intently, waiting for my reply.

My gaze shifts from his to my father’s, then eventually back to his as I try to decide whether to tell him the truth or not. 

Do I risk exposing him to potential harm, knowing that Don Valentino owns half of the police department in our vicinity? 

Can I risk bringing shame to my fathers' name?

“Your father had said, ‘Did he do this to you?’. I want you to know that you can tell me who this man is and that I will do everything in my power to help to protect you.” His voice is genuine and surprisingly, I believe him.

I believe that he will try his best to help protect me. But deep down, I know there is nothing that he or the police can do. 

The world is corrupted. 

“Thanks, Dr. Segar,” I feel deflated as I say his name. “But no one can help me, not even the police, and for your protection, I suggest you don’t report this to the authorities either. Asking what happened to me is asking for trouble to come and find you. Thank you for everything, but I’d like some alone time with my father, please.”

“Miss Bishop, I truly believe you should report this. I don’t know how many times a woman has ended up in hospital because their significant other only knows how to show their affection with their hands.”

I open my mouth only to slam it shut when there is a knock on the door.

“Miss Ivy,” A familiar Italian-coated voice says, gaining my full attention as my head turns toward the door.

Riccardo…

Riccardo saunters into the room, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a 'Get Well' balloon in the other. He places the flowers on the table at the end of my bed with a nonchalant flick of his wrist.

The beep of the monitor attached to my chest is like the ticking of a time bomb, a constant reminder of my mortality.

 It displays the rhythm of my heart, a beat that could either lead me to my demise or keep me alive for another day.

 But one thing is for certain, it’s telling Riccardo that right now, he makes my pulse spike with fear.

Riccardo winks with a smirk on his face. “The capo sends his best wishes for a speedy recovery, bella.”

Exhaling harshly, “you can tell your boss I’ll be seeing him soon,” I hiss, glaring at him, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“He’s betting on it, bella.” He replies with a chuckle as he turns on his heel and saunters out of the room with a bounce to his step.

“I can see that you are involved with the Valentino family,” Dr. Segars’ voice slightly trembles as he slowly begins to back out of the room. “I will have your discharge papers available for you by this afternoon. I’m sorry, but you will have to leave here.” He concludes, turning around, and almost running out of the room like his life depends on it.

So much of you protecting me…