Page 47 of Vows of Betrayal

She tried over and over again to talk me into getting help. But I refused. There was no way she could force me to go.

Ten minutes later, Francesca sighed and stood. “You're impossible. I'll be back.” She kissed me quickly on the lips and then left.

I wasn't sure how much time had gone by when she came back. I'd fallen asleep to some stupid game show on the TV.

“Give me a few minutes to set this up,” she said, dumping her bag on the bed. A bunch of things toppled out. Everything looked familiar. IV bags, gauze, tape, and some other shit. Then she stepped up to a picture I hadn't even looked at and removed it from the wall. After that, she hung a big clear bag and a much smaller bag on the nails in the wall.

I watched her hurry to the kitchen to wash her hands. When she finished, she put on a pair of gloves and opened up quite a few packages. One being a longer needle.

She swiped the back of my hand with an alcohol wipe and carefully inserted the needle. “Got it!” she exclaimed proudly, with a huge smile on her face. Fuck, she was so incredibly beautiful. She started taping the needle to my hand and organizing a bunch of other shit. My eyelids were too damn heavy to keep open. So, I closed them for a while.

“Stefan, open up,” I heard Francesca's beautiful voice float into my ears.

Opening my eyes seemed like a hell of a chore, but I did it.

She sat there with a cup in one hand and a spoon in the other. She spooned something cold into my mouth and I took it. The small ice chips melted almost instantly inside my mouth. “Good, take some more,” my angel said, giving me more cold ice. She kept that up for a few minutes until she said, “We have to get your temperature down. Can you swallow these for me? Open up.” She gave me a couple of pills and held a glass of water for me to sip from.

I nodded and did what she asked. The water she gave me was cold, and it felt good going down.

The TV was on low, and it was the only light on in the room.

Francesca stood and walked to the kitchen. She pulled down a bowl from the cabinet. She filled it up and walked back over to the bed.

“Sponge bath time,” she said with a smile on her face. It didn't quite reach her eyes, though. And just from looking at her, I could see the worry she held in them.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe I should have gone to the fucking hospital.

Maybe I was going to die in her bed.

“You're all sweaty. Let's freshen you up a bit, okay?” She set the bowl down and proceeded to wring out the rag. And then she picked up my heavy, leaden arm and started wiping it with the warm rag. Even after just a few swipes, I started to feel better.

Francesca kept wiping me down. My other arm. My face and neck. My torso.

My legs and feet.

A timer went off on her phone and she reached over for it and turned it off.

“I'm giving you another few hours. And if you don't start to get better soon, I'm calling an ambulance.”

I was too tired to fight her on that. Too hot to care.

I closed my eyes and drifted off, half of me hoping I'd get better.

And the other half hoped I didn't.

14

Stefan

“Oh, my gosh. Normal! Finally,” Francesca said as she turned the thermometer off and dropped it on the bed. She'd already taken my blood pressure and changed my IV bag.

“Are you ready for some supper? I picked up some hamburgers from downstairs. Bernie makes the best ones. And you could use some protein in you after the last few days.”

I nodded and grabbed the bottle of water off the bed. “Yeah, please.” I took a long gulp.

She got up and headed to the kitchen. I finally felt almost human again. It had been a long few days of feeling like supreme shit. But I could get to the bathroom by myself now. And I didn't feel like I was waiting at death's door any longer.

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