Chapter 177

Daniel: "I still want to talk to you. We need to arrange something." Me: "I'm free next week." The conversation about Dante was still echoing in my head. I wasn't going to tell him that the police would open a new investigation. Maybe he already knew. However, any step closer to his arrest was a victory for me. I would watch in silence. "Why did you come home late?" The tone cut through my room while I threw myself onto the bed, clutching my stomach. My belly hurt like hell. My abdomen felt like it was being stabbed by invisible hands. Shit. I was on my period. "Since when does that matter to you?" The vein in his forehead pulsed. "I asked a clear question, and I want a clear answer. Why did you come home late?" "I was with some friends. Can't I?" That didn't seem to calm him. "What friends?" "Daniel, Kayleen, and Penélope." His face displayed a mix of confused emotions. "You still talk to Daniel?" He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms, and that movement released a new, addictive substance through my system. I hated that this gesture was so singular and intensely hot. "Of course. We're friends." Dante clicked his tongue. I kept typing on my phone, replying to messages from Kayleen and Penélope in the group. "He likes you." I exhaled sharply. It used to give me butterflies, a pleasant chill in my stomach when I saw that he was jealous. However, there was no reason for him to act like this anymore. Dante harbored unnecessary hatred now. "Are you jealous, sweetheart?" My face turned to steel. I smiled triumphantly. I immediately sat up on the bed. "He never liked me, for your happiness." "You're inattentive." "Me? You're the lunatic!" I shot back. "He likes Kayleen. He's always liked her." His eyes judged me deeply. "Kayleen is just a second option now that the first one is unavailable," he growled furiously. "What do you mean unavailable?" "Because you've always been mine." A combustion of stars warmed my abdomen. But my stomach still hurt. I bit my lower lip to keep from showing the pain. "I was never yours, and he didn’t know we were friends," I spat, lying back down, now facing away from Dante. However, his presence still managed to crawl up my spine. "Unconsciously or not, everyone knew you were marked by someone else." "We were kids, Dante." "Still, marked." I ignored him, too tired to continue the argument. Sleeping was the only way to relieve what I was feeling. Damn. It was as if little creatures were feeding off my womb, pinching so hard that it felt like it was about to tear. I curled up further, curling my toes and squeezing my eyes shut tightly. "Are you in pain?" "No." "Don’t lie to me because I’ll get the truth out of you," he spat in anger. "If you already know the answer, why ask, you idiot?" I yelled, immediately regretting it. It only created more space for the imaginary creatures to continue breaking my womb. "Answer with your mouth, Emília. I don’t read minds." "Yes, I'm in pain," I groaned. "Now get out of here. You're just making it worse." I didn’t hear any more complaints from him, just the audible grind of his teeth. The door slammed, and his footsteps faded from my ears, bringing a sense of peace, though it didn’t last long. The excruciating pain and Daniel's conversation about the possible investigation into the Day of Punishment were a downstream of problems for a small body like mine. I continued to writher, chewing my own mouth in the desperate hope that the pain would pass. God, how I hated my womb. Two knocks on the door woke me. I didn’t give any sign, but unfamiliar footsteps crossed the way to my bed. "Miss Gray?" I slightly lifted my head, startled by the strange voice. I caught sight of a man wearing glasses, formal clothes, and a black backpack. Dante followed shortly after, his fury so palpable that, if I touched him, I could imagine his soul biting me. He was carrying enormous, clearly heavy bags in his hands. "Who are you?" "I’m Dr. Dax. Nice to meet you." My forehead furrowed. "I didn’t call any doctor." "But Dante did." Of course. His shoulders relaxed as Faulkner set the bags down on the desk in my room and stared at me with his jaw clenched. I made a face at him as if Dante were an animal who didn’t understand my impatience. "What is it?" His sigh was drawn out. "Medications." "So many?" I shot back, alarmed. Dax assessed the situation and concluded that the atmosphere wasn’t exactly pleasant. Dante turned his face toward the window and let the doctor answer. "Dante isn’t exactly a patient person. He asked me to buy the whole pharmacy to help you." He could only be joking. Dante seemed more like a caveman than anything else. Didn’t he think? It would have been much easier to ask a direct question, and I would have told him what I had. "I’m on my period. Nothing special," I explained. "I figured as much." Dax smiled and brought a box of paracetamol to my bedside along with a glass of water. "Take one every four to six hours, and you’ll be fine in no time." "Don’t take it." Faulkner’s tone climbed the walls and fucked up my ears. "Dax, try it." The doctor sighed. I didn’t argue, handing the cup and medication to Dax, who was already holding them. He took it in one go with patience, which sparked many questions in my mind. "Why did you make Dax take it?" Dante didn’t answer. His silence was humanized by an unshakable and fearless figure. God, how I hated him. "You don’t even trust your own doctor? Dax, he doesn’t deserve you," I teased. The man smiled at me. "Is that why he killed my intern?" Dax asked casually. He seemed to know how to handle Dante’s emotions and outbursts, but I didn’t. "No. Dante killed him because he changed my clothes," I protested. "Without your permission," the man spat, as if he hadn’t just sworn to silence moments ago. "I have more important things to do than pay for a fucked-up piece of shit." I rolled my eyes, once again accepting the water and medication from Dax. I drank it, staring at Dante, who was studying me with his jaw clenched and a distant look. Finally, when I swallowed, Faulkner clicked his tongue. His crossed arms, expanding his chest beneath the black t-shirt, were disgustingly tempting. "Now I don’t want to hear you moaning in pain," he ordered. "It pisses me off." I glared at him, still resentful. The pain hadn’t gone away, but this situation was distracting me from the contractions in my womb. "It’s nothing, Dante," Dax explained. "In less than three hours, she’ll feel better." I nodded, silently thanking the doctor for his patience in dealing with Dante. Faulkner just stared at us, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and left as quickly as he came. I lay down, curling up like a worm and forming my cocoon. Sleep took over, and I fell asleep moments later, as if a hurricane hadn’t just passed through my room. Soon enough, the pain was gone, replaced by a bearable warmth.