Page 93 of Empire of Carnage
It made me someone who felt pain.
“Looks like she’s gonna make it.” He carried me through my bedroom and sat me on top of the closed toilet lid once we reached the bathroom. “We can go to the hospital after I get you cleaned up. Get your hands checked out. The mayor elect can’t show up to the hospital covered in blood.”
He walked to the shower, turning it on and adjusting the faucets to a warm temperature before helping me to stand. He pulled each item of clothing off of me with complete and total care, being careful to not hurt my hands any more than they’d already been damaged.
“I love you,” I whispered into the air, unsure if it was even loud enough for him to hear.
He looked up at me from a kneeled position as he undid the buckles on my shoes and helped me out of them. I had a million ideas of what might have been coursing through his head right at this moment.
Nothing said I love you quite like being the first one picked to die.
“You’re my entire world. It was the right choice,” he reassured me, the sobs pouring out of my soul with a ferocity I’d never experienced before, making me unsure if I’d ever be able to stop myself from crying again.
He helped me into the warm stream of water, washing me gently and avoiding doing anything but letting the water carefully roll off my skin to avoid any more pain. My hands throbbed, but it was the kind of ache you could ignore. The kind that reminded you that you finished that very thing you sought out to do.
I’d won.
Todo es mio.
Even if it had cost me just as much.
34
Celia
“And you’re sure she can be trusted with… my secrets?” I asked my dearest friend through the phone awkwardly pinned between my cheek and my shoulder.
“Dr. Hernandez is very well recommended for her professionalism and her discretion in your circles. I’ve sent all her information to DominicoandTaylor, if they didn’t find any reason to be suspicious, then neither should you, Celia,” Emory said in a condescending tone..
“I’ve just never really done this before. Not like this, not with the intent of bearing it all,” I explained anxiously.
“And that’s why it’s never worked for you before. Real communication requires work, consistency, honesty. Things we all know you don’t excel in. If you can’t give her the bare minimum, then don’t bother wasting her time,” she snapped at me as if she knew I was starting to chicken out.
“Ouch amiga,” I said with a laugh.
“It’s a waste ofyourtime too, if you can’t respect her time, at least respect your own. You will never heal if you don’t sort through your damage. It’s not up to them to fix it for you.”
She meant my guys.
She wasn’t wrong, I couldn’t lay the burden of all my problems, my fears, my traumas on them. Sure, they could be there for me, but it wasn’t up to them to always have to clean up my messes.
It had been a week since Carolina had died and I hadn’t slept more than three hours total. It wasn’t that I couldn’t sleep, it was that I was afraid to. Afraid to close my eyes and deal with the aftermath of every horrible thing I’d done to claim the throne I could finally sit on.
“How’s Grimm’s Reach?” I asked, the sarcasm in my tone too clear.
“I don’t want to talk about it, don’t change the subject,” Emory snipped at me.
“Fine,” I said. “Besos.” I hung up without another word, knowing she would be mad for about thirteen seconds before she got over it and found something else to irritate her instead.
With some struggle, I used my wrists and the few uninjured fingers to put my phone in my purse, standing at the door as if I hadn’t just had an entire conversation in front of this person’s house, trying to decide whether or not I would be going in at all. I knocked with my elbow, my hands still badly injured, wrapped in gauze and splinted.
“Cecilia Gomez?” The elderly brunette opened the door to her modest home.
I nodded, appreciating that Emory was thoughtful enough to not give the name that was associated with my political career. Dr. Hernandez wasn’t a stupid woman, she would have had to have been living in an alternate dimension to have missed my face plastered around the news with the upcoming election.
The fact she was opting to stick with the alias let me know Emory might have been right about whether or not the doctor was trustworthy. She led me through her home until we reached double wooden doors that opened into a beautiful office. A rich mahogany desk sat in front of a backdrop of bookshelves, nothing but psychology textbooks displayed on the shelves.
She gestured to the sofa and took a seat on the opposing chair. I followed suit, sitting down as well.
