Capitolo III

After the somewhat normal argument we had, Lucas created his own little study in the corner of my room. He was busy taking calls and answering emails while I kept myself busy with pointless news.

By lunch, I was fed with a different kind of soup. I didn't know what it was exactly. It tasted too good to ask. Turns out, I wasn't allowed to eat food that's hard to swallow. But I was satisfied with the soup I'm fed to complain about.

Sigmund visited me late in the afternoon. He apologized for not being able to check earlier. The hospital was busy, he said. This was the hospital I donated to a few years back to keep it running. No wonder the nurses are polite. He checked my wounds and bruises which are as sore as the day I lost my virginity.

"Your bruises are fading quicker than they should be. Which is good," he said, scribbling something on the chart. "Your body is responding quite well despite what happened, Caterina. But you need your rest if you want to get the hell out of this hospital to have that wedding of yours." It was quite odd that Sigmund was able to joke like that, but the fact that I basically have amnesia isn't really a good time to raise the subject of wedding.

"Okay, Sigmund," Lucas interrupted, grabbing the poor doctor's shoulder. "How about you get out of here and we'll let her rest." The doctor could only chuckle his way out.

"There's no way in hell that I'm sleeping again." I shook my head and crossed my hands against my chest. Though my body is screaming with different kinds and levels of agony, my brain isn't as tired as I would've wanted, which means sleeping would be impossible.

"Yes you are," Lucas demanded, cocking his head towards the comfortable pillow I'm leaning against. I raised an eyebrow and narrowed my eyes, challenging him. "Or I can call a nurse and let them drug you."

"You wouldn't."

"I would." I knew Lucas wasn't kidding about telling the nurses to drug me but I wasn't backing down. 

Since I woke up, I've been dying for a mug of coffee and a few miles to run. I wanted to pee since yesterday and there's no way in fucking hell will I be peeing in that damn tube. So I thought of it as an excuse to get up. I threw away the white covers that gracefully pooled on the floor, wanting to feel my feet on the ground. But I froze when I saw the mess of purple and blue and yellow bruises that painted my legs. A cold gush of air escaped my lips. The next thing I know, I was blinking away tears. I couldn't stop them from falling. The tremble of my hands as I carried them to my lips to stop my sobs was proof enough that I really did cheated death.

"Mari," Lucas called when he noticed my tears. He took the blanket off the floor and spread it back over my legs to cover the hideous tracks of the last few days. "Hey," he called again like he was soothing me. But there was no point, at the moment, nothing could calm me down, not until the gaps are filled and I'll know why I decided to walk into my deathbed. Lucas brings my chin up to meet his gaze. "You cheated death four times. Those bruises—" he points at my legs—"aren't enough to make you ugly. If anything it makes you a little hotter." I laughed at that and he chuckled back at my response. "There we go," he said. I wiped the tears away with the back of my palm and Lucas fluffed my pillow, letting me know he wanted me to lay down.

"Help me up," I said, sniffing as I raised my arm for him to take. "I need to pee." If my bladder isn't about to blow, I'd be embarrassed to ask Lucas about me needing to urinate, but beggars can't be choosers.

"You have a damn catheter," he pointed, but he takes my arm anyway. Though I can tell that he's opposed to my decision.

"I'm not fucking peeing on that thing," I snapped, forgetting about my painted legs. The tube has been making me uncomfortable since the second I woke up and my bladder doesn't exactly like the idea that there's a tube in there somewhere. "Call a nurse."

"Stay, Mari," he commanded, slowly putting down my hand as he left and looked for a nurse.

When he returns, a short blonde woman wearing Iron Man scrubs, tailing behind him.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Santelli," she smiled as she checked my chart on the bottom of my bed. She frowns as she scrolls through the pages.

"My bladder is about to explode," I pointed, a little irritated that she's taking too long to help me out of it. "And I'm not peeing on a tube."

"I'm afraid you can't get up, Ms. Santelli," she smiles apologetically. "You need to stay in bed for at least three days after consciousness."

"Mari, just listen to her," Lucas suggested.

"You can either help me, or I'll help myself," I challenged, scooting further off the bed. They could watch or they could help me but either way, I will be peeing on a damn toilet.

The nurse gave a defeated sigh. "Mr. De Marchi, why don't you go check the cafeteria's special today?" That was Lucas' cue to leave and give me my privacy. But before departing, he took my hand and brought it to his lips.

"Behave, Mari," he whispers. Then he leaves.