“What?” he asks. I try to force more words out, but I can’t. My mouth falls open when I try to talk, I just groan as my body goes limp. “Laura. What are you talking about?” He shakes me, trying to keep me from passing out.
He is saying something else, but I don’t understand him anymore as I am moved down to lie on the floor. The world is blurry, but I can clearly make out my mom and dad. Mom is holding a baby, and I smile.
“Mom? Dad? I’ve missed you so much,” I manage to choke out. They both smile at me, and Dad holds his arms out as if welcoming me into a hug. “Is that Bradley? Can I hold...” I lose all of my remaining energy. My eyes close as I slip away.
My body feels heavy, but I feel like I’m floating at the same time. A tremendous weight comes over me as my brain drags me to consciousness. It’s dark outside but someone is carrying me. I am too weak to move, but I groan.
“Angelo, she’s waking up,” I hear Mario say.
“Lay her down out here. She needs the fresh air,” he says. His tone is unrecognizable. If I’m not mistaken, he sounds... remorseful.
I am laid on something that feels like a bench seat. I roll to the back of the seat and curl myself into the fetal position with my arms shielding my face. I don’t know what emotion I am feeling yet, so I am just going to protect myself the only way I know how. When Iwas in foster care, sometimes the other kids in the placement were absurdly abusive to me because I was so small. The foster parents didn’t give a fuck that they would put stuff in socks and beat the shit out of me with it. I always ended up curled up like this with my hands protecting my face.
I flinch when one of them puts their hand on my waist. “Leave her be,” Mario says. “Just give her time.”
“I need her to talk to me,” he says, still sounding defeated.
“Angelo, you nearly killed the woman,” Mario says. “Look at her and tell me what you see right now.”
“She looks... scared,” he says flatly.
“Precisely,” he says. “You won’t get shit from her as long as she’s like this.”
“Mario, don't forget who is in charge of this family,” he says firmly.
“No. I love you man, but you just need to stop. You can’t force shit and expect her not to shut down. The human mind can only tolerate so much. She was talking to her dead parents so unless you want to trigger a complete mental break, at least let her come out of her current state,” he says. “We will be at the island in a few hours, so just give her some time.”
“Alright,” Angelo sighs.
“And watch her because I’m sure she’d rather throw herself into the ocean than be on a boat with us,” he says.
Everything gets quiet for a few seconds, but I hear Angelo move and then he sits beside my head. I nearly come out of my skin when I feel his fingertips on my scalp. He gently runs his fingers throughmy hair. Each time he strokes my hair, it relaxes me more. For some stupid reason, I feel safe. They confirmed my suspicions that I was nearly murdered. Somehow, the man who tried to do it is the one who is calming me down right now.
I let him continue to soothe me as the boat sways, moving us through the water. I haven’t looked up, so I have no idea where we are, but I don’t particularly care right now. I’m sure by now, everyone sees me as a laughingstock. All of that hard work I put in will be reduced to me getting murdered. Knowing Phillip, they will list it as a suicide or some dumb shit.
After a while, I finally sit up. I move to the other side of the bench seat from Angelo and pull my knees to my chest so I can wrap my arms around my legs and rest my head on my knees. I feel someone sit next to me. I know it’s Mario because Angelo hasn't moved.
“I’m not asking for anything specific, but I do need you to talk to me for a second,” he says softly. I put my legs down and turn to face him. All of the pain and sadness fall away and all that’s left is rage. “Go fuck yourself. That good enough for you, Mario?” I ask with venom in my tone.
“It is,” he says with a soft smile. He motions for my hand, and I’m confused for a second until he presses his fingers to the inside of my wrist and looks at his watch.
“What are you doing?” I ask, frowning.
“Checking your heart rate,” he says. “How do you feel?”
“Kidnapped,” I deadpan.
“Laura,” he says. “I’m serious. We were lucky that the Hydroxocobalamin worked, and you didn’t die. How do you feel physically?”
“Dizzy,” I say. “Nauseated.”
“Yeah, you will for a couple of days. I’m going to give you the same shot every twelve hours to help get rid of those symptoms. You’ll probably need to take B12 for a while because you can have long-lasting effects from the Cyanide. We gave you a whole bunch initially,” he says.
“How long was I out and what time is it?” I ask.
“You were out for about twelve hours. It’s about three in the morning now,” he says.
“Where are we going?” I ask.