Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“He was going to shoot Cinna. Again.”
“Cinna is shot?” she asked, walking toward the kitchen.
“In her arm.”
“Oh, so she’s barely shot,” the woman said, finding a bottle of liquor and a shot glass, bringing them over to me and pouring. “Drink,” she demanded.
Numbly, I found myself doing what she demanded, seeing as she seemed a lot more in control of herself in the moment.
“I’m Saff, by the way.”
“Elizabeth,” I said, a little concerned that the vodka didn’t burn on the way down. So when Saff poured me another shot, I took it.
“Well, Elizabeth, I think it might be a good idea for you to go hang out in the bedroom while the guys and I… clean up.”
“Clean up,” I repeated.
“Well, I don’t think the corpse really adds to the decor, y’know?”
“Saff,” Rico scolded, sounding exasperated.
“What? She’s going to notice the body is gone when it’s not still sitting here a week from now, gathering flies.”
“Christ,” Rico said, sighing hard.
“Come on. Let’s get you out of here,” Saff said, reaching to grab my arm, pulling me with her when I didn’t immediately move to follow her.
She led me into Elian’s room, gesturing to the bed, where I sat.
“Okay, so, maybe just stay in here, okay? I don’t want Elian to blame me if you are more emotionally damaged than necessary,” she said.
And, with that, she walked out, closing the door behind her.
Alone, I slid down onto my side, pretending not to hear the sounds of the three people in the other room.
Cleaning up a crime scene.
That I’d created.
I couldn’t tell you how long I lay there, staring at the wall, in this weird dissociative state.
Until, what felt like a lifetime later, the bedroom door slid open.
And there was Elian.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Elian
I never felt more conflicted than I did when I walked into my condo to find my sister bleeding and Elizabeth standing there with traumatized eyes, her whole body shaking.
In the end, though, someone with a bleeding head wound had to take priority.
Cinna and I shuffled Islah into my car, then barreled toward the urgent care, demanding the woman at the front desk call in Dr. Conti.
He came flying in the door not more than five minutes later, his hair still wet from the shower, wearing rumpled clothes, the same ones he’d likely taken off before his shower, his eyes wide and panicked.
“What do we have here?” he asked as he led us into an exam room.
“Head wound here,” I said, rubbing my sister’s arm. “And a gunshot wound there,” I went on, waving at Cinna.
“I’m fine,” Cinna insisted for the fourth time, but she was sweating in her hairline and looking pale.
She was holding it together because she was worried about Islah.
Dr. Conti slipped on gloves and looked at the back of Islah’s head. “Okay. Not too bad,” he said, carefully probing around the wound with his fingers. “The bleeding always makes it look worse than it is.”
“She seems a little out of it,” Cinna insisted.
“Did she lose consciousness?” Dr. Conti asked.
“No,” Cinna said.
“Has there been any vomiting? Bleeding or fluid draining from the nose or ears?”
“No.”
“Okay,” Dr. Conti said, producing a pen light, and flashing it in Islah’s eyes. “Follow the light for me, honey,” he said, voice soothing. “Good. Good. Okay. And do you know where you are?”
“Urgent care.”
“And who are these people here?” he asked, waving back toward us.
“My brother and Cinna,” she said, just as the door burst open, and a panicked Dav came rushing in, making a beeline for Cinna. “And Dav,” Islah added.
“Good,” Dr. Conti said. “And do you have any ringing in your ears? Any strange spots in your vision?”
“No.”
“Good. Any weakness in your arms or legs?” he asked, watching as Islah lifted each.
“No.”
“You’re not slurring either, so that’s a good sign. Can you hop down for me and just do a quick little walk around the room?” he asked, making sure he was right there at her side in case she stumbled as she moved around Cinna and Dav, the latter trying to pull Cinna’s jacket off, so he could look at the wound.
“Alright, well, you seem to be doing okay. It’s not abnormal for her to have been a little spaced out or confused right after her brain knocked around in her skull,” he said, speaking to us as he gathered supplies to treat her head wound. “Of course, someone needs to keep an eye on her. Even waking her up on occasion and asking her simple questions to make sure there is no mental confusion. And if you notice any of the symptoms I asked about just a moment ago, she should follow up with the emergency room, where she can get some scans done to see what is going on. We don’t have them here,” he added, looking at me, making sure I understood he was doing everything in his power.