Chapter 84

Chapter 84
Cindy's POV

The first thing I remembered was the tube in my throat. It felt like I was choking, like I couldn't breathe properly. Everything was white and bright, and there were machines beeping all around me. I wanted to scream, but no sound would come out.
Maria's face appeared above me. Her eyes were red from crying, but she was smiling. "Mija, you're awake. You're safe now."
I tried to talk, but the tube made it impossible. I pointed to my throat, making desperate sounds. I needed to know where I was. I needed to know how long I had been gone from the club.
"Don't try to talk yet," a man in a white coat said. He must be a doctor. "The tube is helping you breathe. Your body was very sick."
Very sick? I remembered feeling weak at the club, but I didn't remember being sick enough to need a breathing tube. The last thing I remembered clearly was... John. I saw John before I collapsed. But that was impossible. John was dead.
Sarah appeared next to Maria. She was crying too, but she looked healthy. Not hurt. That was good.
"You saved our lives," Sarah whispered. "You were so brave, Cindy."
Over the next few days, they slowly removed the machines. First, the breathing tube, which hurt terribly when it came out. Then the other tubes and wires, one by one. Dr. Martinez explained that my body had been full of poison from all the drugs Big Jim had been giving me. My liver had almost stopped working. My kidneys too.
"You almost died," he told me one morning. "Your body was shutting down."
I couldn't believe it. I had felt weak, yes, but dying? It seemed impossible. Yet here I was, surrounded by machines that had kept me alive.
The days blended together. Maria and Sarah took turns sitting with me. They brought me soup and helped me walk to the bathroom when I was strong enough. Everything was difficult. Even lifting a spoon made me tired.
"Where are we?" I asked Maria one afternoon, about a week after I woke up.
"A safe place," she said. "Far from the club."
"How long have I been gone?"
Maria hesitated. "About three weeks now."
Three weeks. My heart started beating faster. Big Jim must be furious. He must be looking for us everywhere.
"Has Big Jim tried to find us?" I asked, scared of the answer.
"Don't worry about Big Jim," Maria said quickly. "Just focus on getting better."
But I couldn't stop worrying. Three weeks was a long time to be missing. Big Jim didn't let his girls disappear without consequences. Someone was protecting us, but who? And for how long?
Sometimes, when I was half asleep, I thought I saw someone in the shadows of my room. A tall figure was watching me. It reminded me of John, but that was impossible. John was dead. These must be dreams, or maybe the drugs were still affecting my mind.
"Maria," I said one day, "sometimes I think I see... someone. In my room."
Maria looked uncomfortable. "You're still recovering, mija. Your mind is healing too. Don't worry about what you think you see."
Her answer felt wrong somehow. Like she was hiding something. But I was too tired to push for more answers.
As the days passed, I got stronger. I could walk around my room without help. I could eat solid food. The color returned to my face, and I stopped looking like a ghost in the mirror.
But I also started thinking more clearly. And the more I thought, the angrier I became.
This was all my father's fault. If he hadn't been so secretive, if he had just told me the truth about his debts instead of hiding everything, none of this would have happened. I wouldn't have had to work for Big Jim. Maria and Sarah wouldn't have suffered. I wouldn't have almost died.
My father had been a coward. He left me to clean up his mess, and it nearly killed me.
"You're getting stronger every day," Dr. Martinez told me during one of his visits. "Soon you'll be able to move around the house freely."
The house. I realized I hadn't seen much of where we were staying. My room was beautiful, with expensive furniture and soft carpets. Whoever was helping us had money. A lot of money.
After three weeks of recovery, Dr. Martinez finally said I could leave my room and explore.
"Take it slow," he warned. "You're much stronger, but your body is still healing."
I was excited to see more of this place that had been my sanctuary. Maria helped me put on a soft robe over my nightgown, and we walked out of my room together.
The hallway was incredible. High ceilings, beautiful paintings on the walls, marble floors that sparkled in the light. This wasn't just a house - it was a mansion.
"Whose mansion is this?" I asked Maria as we walked slowly down the hall. "Who is protecting us?"
Maria hesitated for a moment, then said, "It's Kyle's place. You remember Kyle from the club - your biggest patron. He's been taking care of us."
Kyle. I remembered him well. He was always kind to me, always generous. But I had never imagined he lived in a place like this.
"Where is Kyle now?" I asked, looking around. "I should thank him."
"He's out of town on a business trip," Maria said quickly. "He'll be back soon."
Something about her answer felt rehearsed, but I didn't push. Kyle had saved our lives. That was all that mattered right now.
We reached a beautiful staircase that curved down to the lower floor. The railings were made of dark wood that gleamed like silk. Everything about this place screamed wealth and luxury.
"I want to see downstairs," I said.
"Are you sure? It's a lot of steps."
I nodded. After three weeks in bed, I needed to feel normal again. I needed to feel strong.
We started down the stairs slowly. Maria stayed close to me, ready to help if I needed it. My legs felt weak, and I had to hold tight to the railing, but I was determined to make it down.
We were about halfway down when it happened.
My legs suddenly felt like water. The weakness hit me all at once, and I felt myself falling backward. The stairs seemed to rush up toward me, and I knew I was going to fall all the way down.
But instead of hitting the hard marble steps, I fell into strong arms.
Someone caught me, pulling me against a solid chest. I could smell cologne - expensive, familiar somehow. The arms that held me were gentle but strong, and for a moment I felt completely safe.
I looked up to see who had saved me.
And my world stopped.
It was John.
John was alive. John was here. John was holding me in his arms, and he was real.