Panic
As soon as we get out of the car, Sandro covers me with his sweatshirt and murmurs something about the men staring at me.
But my mind is elsewhere.
As soon as we enter the medical area of the warehouse, I hear the sound of high heels on the floor.
Delicate arms envelop me, along with the scent of roses and grapes.
I rest my head on Lizandra's shoulder.
I should be comforting her, not the other way around, but I can't.
"You gave him the time he needed to get to the hospital," she whispers in my ear.
"He protected the little girl," I try to explain what happened, but a sob escapes my mouth.
"Dominic is okay, that's what matters," she says more calmly than I can.
We remain embraced for long minutes.
"Elena, can I see you?" Matteo asks, approaching.
I say goodbye to Lizandra, who smiles affectionately at me, nodding to indicate that I should go.
I notice that my father has arrived along with Uncle Salvatore and Carlo.
They seem serious, and I imagine they think this might be related to Sinclair, but it was just an unfortunate incident.
We were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I follow Matteo to one of the empty rooms and sit on the bed.
He closes the door and watches me before pulling up a chair and sitting down in front of me.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asks calmly.
I tell him exactly what I remember, every detail, until I get to the part where I killed the last thief.
“We saw it,” he says, and I swallow hard.
“I understand you,” I say, looking only at my hands. “I know what you felt when you crossed that line.”
“Bambina,” he says, placing his hands on mine. My fingers are still stained with dried blood.
"I just wanted to make him suffer, to make him feel the despair I felt, the same pain," I say angrily. "So I didn't care when I killed him, and I still don't."
The sincerity of my words scares me. Have I become a monster?
"What you felt is normal, the anger of someone who caused you pain, who hurt someone important to you," Matteo explains gently and without judgment.
"I'm sorry," I say, a tear running down my cheek.
Soon I'm sobbing and he hugs me, preventing me from falling off the cliff where I am.
"I was unfair to you. I know that everything you do is to protect us, but my mind was only thinking about how that could have happened to me," I say, wiping away my tears. "I was scared and I took it out on you." “We shouldn’t have done this behind your back, you’re hurt and we just wanted to get it over with without asking how you’d feel,” Matteo admits, guiltily.
“I’m not running away anymore,” I tell him, determined.
“And we won’t think about your feelings before seeking answers,” he promises. “Now, let me see if you’re okay.”
He examines me carefully, looking for injuries, and when he’s satisfied, he hands me a bar of soap to wash my hands.
I go into the bathroom and close the door.
I look at myself in the mirror and realize my hair is messy, my dark circles are deep, and I look like I’m about to freak out.
I wash my hands, which takes a while to get all the blood off.
When I finish, I tie my hair up, which urgently needs to be dyed and cut.
I leave the bathroom and realize Matteo isn’t there anymore. I adjust Sandro’s jacket on my body before leaving.
When I arrive, everyone is in the waiting room. I approach Lizandra, hold her hand in a gesture of support, and we wait patiently for information about Dominic.
Matteo takes two hours to return to the waiting room with another doctor.
“We managed to stop the bleeding and remove the bullet,” the doctor says, and we all let out a collective sigh of relief. “He’s recovering from the anesthesia and will need to rest until the wound heals completely.”
“Thank you so much, doctor,” Lizandra thanks the doctor.
“I’ll take you to him,” Matteo tells her.
The two leave, and I finally manage to calm down.
“I know you want to see him,” Lorenzo begins, but I interrupt him.
“Let her stay with him; I can visit him later,” I say, tired. “I need a shower and my bed.”
They agree, and I accompany Vicente to the car we came in.
I rest my head on Sandro’s shoulder and close my eyes, feeling exhausted.
I end up falling asleep when he starts gently stroking my head.
I have a brief dream about gunshots and blood, and I end up waking up terrified after dying in the dream.
"Hey, it's okay," Sandro reassures me, and I realize I'm on the living room sofa.
I open and close my hand, pressing my nails against my palms.
I'm okay, everyone's safe.
I repeat this mentally.
I look around to distract myself and realize that only Sandro, Giovanni, Dante, Luca, and Vitório are in the room.
"What time is it?" I ask, trying to return to reality.
"Three in the morning," Giovanni replies.
He and Dante are playing chess while Luca and Vitório watch television.
"Shouldn't we all be in our rooms?" I ask, confused.
"Yes, but we didn't know if you'd need us, so we decided to let you sleep here nearby," Dante says, and I stare at them as if it makes sense.
“I’m fine, you should go rest,” I say, getting up from the sofa.
I need water and to go to the bathroom.
I’m almost there when a gunshot from the television startles me. Instinctively, I flinch and feel my whole body tremble.
I remember my dream, of seeing Dominic and everyone in the convenience store die before my eyes.
I close my eyes and try to breathe.
“Turn that off,” I hear Dante say to one of the boys.
I jump when someone touches my arm and I end up knocking over a vase that was near me.
The noise doesn’t help.
I fall to my knees, trembling. I’m having a panic attack.
I feel something painfully poking my legs, while my throat seems to close up.
“Sister, open your eyes,” Giovanni asks softly, in a persuasive tone.
His voice penetrates the war zone my mind has become; it’s calm compared to the roar of my thoughts.
I do what he asks and feel like I can catch my breath before the next wave overwhelms me.
“Repeat after me,” he says firmly, “Seven, eleven, one, two, eight.”
I try to repeat until he changes the order of the numbers again.
Gradually, my brain focuses only on trying to repeat what he asks.
“Our brains can’t process a panic attack and follow numbers out of sequence at the same time,” he explains.
I look around and realize the boys are focused on anything but us, and I’m grateful for that.