Chapter 154: Stranger Danger

SANCIA

I don't know how long I ran or where I was headed; my entire body was trembling. When I saw a busy establishment filled with people. I just barged right through the door. People meant crowds, and crowds meant safety.

Tremors from the shock still ran through me as I found myself a booth and sat down. It was only after the waiter brought a menu to place my order that I realized I was in a restaurant.

I'd ask him for a glass of water. Even drinking was a reminder of what just happened. My throat hurts with every gulp.

But drinking the cool liquid helps me relax marginally; I reach for my bag to order a cab, only to realize I don't have it. Of course, how could I forget?

I'd drop my books, bag, and car keys when Lorenzo grabs me. Lorenzo is alive, my God, this is some really twisted dream. It must be; I'm probably going to wake up and realize I've just had a really weird dream.

And yet despite my denial. I borrowed the kind waiter's phone and called an Uber.

Fifteen minutes later, I was home. I'm seated in the kitchen with Zetta while she tidies up the kitchen.

From the smell of it, she was just done baking. Zetta's greatest joy is cooking and feeding people, so she's always whipping up dishes or pastries late at night for the next morning's consumption.

“How was the class today?” she asked.

“Same as always,” I replied, absentmindedly; my hands were still shaking. My throat hurts and feels so dry despite my one glass back at the restaurant.

“Zetta, can I please get a glass of water?”

“Of course,” she poured me a glass of water and handed it to me.

“Are you okay?” Zetta asked, probably noticing how rattled I looked.

“I’m fine, just tired,” I lied as I picked up the water; my hands shook as I drained the whole glass. Zetta was still looking at me, frowning.

“You don't look good, Signora. You look pale as a ghost.” She reaches out and touches my forehead.

That's because I'd just seen a ghost.

“Are you sick? Should I get ready to go to the hospital?” she asked. I flash her a small smile.

“Don't worry about me, Zetta, really, I'm fine. I just have a slight headache. I'll take some Tylenol and get some sleep. I'll be fine before morning.”

“Alright, I hope so. If it doesn't, you let me know so we can go to the hospital before it gets worse,” she said.

“I promise I will. Good night, Zetta.”

“Good night, Signora.”

My steps felt heavy as I made my way upstairs to my room. I couldn’t tell Zetta what happened because I honestly don’t even know where to begin.

How can I tell her that the man we know has been dead for three years is suddenly back, and not only that, but that he’d also attack me?

Just what the hell kind of joke is this? The fates must be laughing their asses off at me.

The more I thought about it, the more confused I became. Nothing makes sense, absolutely nothing.

If he was Lorenzo, why the hell was he asking if Luca made me shoot him? What did he mean by that? Who are you, Elena? He'd said that. Why would he call me that if he really were Lorenzo?

Did he not recognize me? No, this must be some sick joke someone is playing with me, because if Lorenzo is alive, surely Luca would have told me.

And despite his flaws and dark heart, Lorenzo will never hurt me. Hurt other people absolutely. He'll hurt them without blinking, but not me. That much I know.

Something is wrong, and I don't even know what? Maybe I should call Luca and ask him? Nodding to myself, I went to grab my phone, but I remembered I didn't have it with me.

It was with my attacker, whoever he might be. Not only does he have my phone, but he also has my bag, keys, and ID. And what's worse, he also has my address. That thought alone gave me chills.

Three whole days have passed since that shocking incident, and the peace and silence make me wonder if I had hallucinated the whole thing.

The first day, I'd barely slept a wink; fear and trepidation had me in a choke hold, as I wracked my brain for any logical explanation as to what happened that night.

The more I think about it, the less it makes sense to me. The second day was the same. By the third day, I'd begin to wonder if I'd dreamed the whole thing, but his voice and the sight of his fading fingers from my throat wouldn’t allow me that luxury.

The luxury of forgetting that Lorenzo might be back and he’s here for my life, which honestly didn’t make a lick of sense; if anything, I should be the one going after his life.

He attacked my family, killed my papa, uncle, nephew, and a dozen others. If anyone should take revenge, then it’s me.

By the time Thursday rolled over, and there was nothing new or strange, I'd convince myself that I'd probably imagined it. Which means I’m fucking losing it and need to go back to Doctor Suzanne before I’m dragged to a psychiatrist.

I've taken to carrying my pepper spray and a taser. If that asshole who's pretending to be Lorenzo was real and ever came to scare me again, he's going to get what he deserves.

It was another busy day at the hospital, and as usual, I was seated behind the front desk, waiting for Dr. Josh to call in another patient. I forced a polite smile as I waited patiently for the middle-aged woman who'd come for her appointment with Dr. Josh, while she fumbled with the patient referral forms.

“Please have a seat, ma’am,” I said softly. “And I’ll let you know when the doctor is ready to see you.”

“How long will that be? I'd already made an appointment because I have a business meeting elsewhere and don't want to miss it.”

I flash the woman a smile. “I'm sorry, there's just a bit of a queue in front of you, but the doctor will see you soon. Please have a seat and kindly wait for your turn.”

Like most establishments, Mondays are a bit stressful with patients all coming in on the first day of the week, but I've gotten better at handling patients than I did when I first started this job.

Even so, I felt irritated when the woman continued her tirade. The automatic doors slid open with a hydraulic sigh. I glanced up as the throngs of people spilled into the hallway.

My breath caught at the sight of a tall man in a dark hoodie, wearing a cap. And just like that, my heartbeat spiked, taking me back to that night.

This man also has broad shoulders. Both his hands were buried in his hoodie pockets. He was standing just inside the hallway, holding a few papers that looked like prescriptions.

And as though he knew I was watching, he raised his head; his eyes were an intense shade of light brown, almost familiar, but that couldn't possibly be.

My eyes narrowed, my fingers tightened around the pen I was holding until my knuckles hurt as I tried to detect any resemblance to the devil I kept thinking about these days.

Unfortunately, a face mask covered this man's lower half, and I could barely make out the color of his eyes under his hat and hoodie. The noises in the room instantly muffled as he took a step in my direction.

Something about the way his eyes pinned me in place without even blinking made goosebumps spread over my skin, and I shivered. I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the tile.

“Ma’am?” a man's voice asked. “Did you hear anything I just asked?”

I blinked guiltily, “I'm sorry, please, how can I help you?” My whole body is shaking.

“I have an appointment with Dr. Joshua. Can you please confirm my appointment?”

“Of course, name and date of birth?” I asked, my eyes flicking to where the man in the black hoodie had been, but it was now empty; there was no man in a black hoodie.

Only a couple of people are pushing down an older man sitting in a wheelchair. My heart pounded violently against my ribs. My brows crease. What the hell just happened? Where did he go?

I bolted from behind the front desk and walked down the hallway, leaving the man waiting for me with a confused expression.

My head whipped around in circles as I searched the rooms and down the stairs before I retraced my steps.

He was gone. How could someone just up and disappear? Am I going crazy?

I finally gave up when I remembered I had a job to do, and I was confused, and I walked back to my station.

God, I'm probably just exhausted. I confirmed the new patient's appointment and attended to another patient.

By late evening, I’d convinced myself it was stress. And probably hunger. Hunger did strange things. I hadn't had breakfast when I left home. I ran out of the house late, then got busy and forgot about lunch.

That's probably why I started seeing things that aren't really there.

“Hey, Elena,” the jovial voice in front of the desk startled me. I raised my eyes to find Dr. Josh standing there, both his hands buried inside his white lab coat.

“Oh, hi, doctor.”

“I thought you were already gone,” he said, grinning.

“I'm about to; I just need to pack my stuff,” I replied, doing exactly that.

“I was wondering,” he began carefully, leaning against the big desk that separates me from the reception area, lowering his voice, “if you’d consider dinner tonight. Nothing formal. Just food you and… .”

“I’m sorry!” I blurted loudly; he blinked. I smiled awkwardly. “I…um, don't think that's a good idea.”

Dr. Josh was a handsome man in a clean, polished way. He's in his mid-thirties and always trying to help. Dr. Josh is the kind of man who wears tailored suits and expensive watches.

I remember when I started working here, I was nervous, not just because it was my first day, but also because I was paranoid that one of the patients might recognize me. He was extremely patient and kind.

“It's just dinner, Elena, Italian? I know you love Italian,” he said.

“I can't, I'm sorry, maybe another time?” Or never. I don't know why I feel so bad about rejecting him. Throwing me his charming smile, he pushed away from the divider.

“Of course, sure. Whenever.” He chuckled nervously. I flashed him a guilty smile as I rounded the desk. I was suddenly dizzy and quickly slapped my palm against the desk.

“Elena! Are you okay?” Dr. Josh asked, already on my side, his hands raised, but he wasn't touching me.

“I'm okay, I'm good. Just a little lightheaded; I just need a little rest,” I assured, unconvincingly. His eyes softened.

“You look pale; you're probably coming down with something. Come on, let's take a look at you,” he said.

“I’m fine, really, I just need to lie down,” I whispered, forcing a smile.

While I appreciate his kindness, Dr. Josh and I have nothing in common. He's a good citizen; the worst thing he's probably done is get a ticket for speeding.

He doesn't deserve to have his life disrupted and turned upside down by mine. Because that's what will happen if I let him in, it's for this exact reason that I've pretended I didn't know how he felt about me since I started working here.

He didn’t look convinced by my answer, but he let it go. “Fine, but I'm driving you home. I can't in good conscience let you drive in your condition.”

He had that stubborn look in his eyes, the one he had when dealing with difficult patients.

“Fine, and thank you, doctor.”