his eyes, discovering more tiny scrapes and cuts that need attending to.
“Granddad.” He closes his eyes once the word escapes. The rhythmic sounds of all the monitors reassure me his vitals are still steady.
“Stubborn old man is doing quite well. He thought he’d be released from ICU today but looks like a couple more days until then.” My hand stays busy as I keep finding scrapes and cuts to clean up and mentally remember the ones that may require stitches. “The doctors are making him take it slow and he sure doesn’t care for that.”
Minutes pass as everyone in the room attends to one part of Marvel with the only soothing noise and form of hope coming from the steady monitors.
The swinging doors fly open with the head of surgery standing in the doorway. “The plastic surgeon is here from Chicago and is ready for him.”
“Closing up the last wound and we’ll have him wheeled up to the OR. His vitals are steady for now. Severe signs of infection coupled with necrotizing fasciitis in his leg.”
I watch hopelessly as they wheel him away, leaving my hands empty and bare. It’s not until he’s gone that I realize what his touch had done to me. I shake my head, knowing it’s only because of how traumatic the situation is and knowing his family.
I begin helping clean up the ER, putting away medical supplies when I come across a necklace laying on the floor. The chain is broken and filthy with a silver cross attached to it. I pick it up knowing it’s Marvel’s and tuck it into the front of my scrubs. It goes against all protocol, but if I can’t be with him helping him, I at least want a piece of him with me.
I know it’s all wrong, but it feels so damn right and it should be my first sign.
6
Marvel
H er face —it’s all I saw when I wanted to die. Die, take my last breath, and escape the torture of Saint and his men. If being beaten wasn’t enough, the visions of my best friend dying in front of me were. Surviving is the last thing I’ve ever wanted and may be the worse punishment God has delivered.
My world is black as I drift in and out and remember her words about my family. Granddad’s in the hospital. My brothers actually want to see me, and all I want is death. The inevitable blackness takes over, causing all my worries, horrible memories, or fucking hatred left to haunt me to dissipate forever.
The burn of her kiss is the last thing for me to remember.
7
Clover
I stand back a bit leaning on the hallway wall listening to the doctors explain in detail Marvel’s condition, and I don’t miss the FBI agents who are also listening. The doctors’ main concerns are saving his leg and beating the flesh-eating disease.
“Thank you.” Maverik rises up to shake each doctor’s hand while Merek follows suit.
“It will be a long night with several more surgeries to come, but it looks like your brother was quite lucky.” The two doctors walk off, leaving the Slatters in shock. It’s written all over each of their faces.
An awkward silence settles in as the agents stay close to the Slatters. A new cowboy I’ve never met has joined the group.
“Clover.” Ella races up to me, automatically wrapping me up in a hug. “Are you okay?”
Finally, the touch of a friend after the most traumatizing night of my life leaves me feeling very emotional, even with the threat of tears. From finding Marvel, to being interrogated, to my uncle Saint being an asshole, and then finishing the night holding Marvel, all of it collides together letting the dark storm cloud above my head open up.
“I’m okay.” I step back, wiping the tears from my eyes, trying to keep the flood of them back.
“What happened?” Merek asks.
I follow Ella over to the couches and take a seat on the single peach ottoman.
“I decided to go home tonight to have dinner with my uncle and aunt.” I pull all my hair back, tying it up in a messy bun as I talk. “I got lost. It was so dark, but when I turned my car around I
“Granddad.” He closes his eyes once the word escapes. The rhythmic sounds of all the monitors reassure me his vitals are still steady.
“Stubborn old man is doing quite well. He thought he’d be released from ICU today but looks like a couple more days until then.” My hand stays busy as I keep finding scrapes and cuts to clean up and mentally remember the ones that may require stitches. “The doctors are making him take it slow and he sure doesn’t care for that.”
Minutes pass as everyone in the room attends to one part of Marvel with the only soothing noise and form of hope coming from the steady monitors.
The swinging doors fly open with the head of surgery standing in the doorway. “The plastic surgeon is here from Chicago and is ready for him.”
“Closing up the last wound and we’ll have him wheeled up to the OR. His vitals are steady for now. Severe signs of infection coupled with necrotizing fasciitis in his leg.”
I watch hopelessly as they wheel him away, leaving my hands empty and bare. It’s not until he’s gone that I realize what his touch had done to me. I shake my head, knowing it’s only because of how traumatic the situation is and knowing his family.
I begin helping clean up the ER, putting away medical supplies when I come across a necklace laying on the floor. The chain is broken and filthy with a silver cross attached to it. I pick it up knowing it’s Marvel’s and tuck it into the front of my scrubs. It goes against all protocol, but if I can’t be with him helping him, I at least want a piece of him with me.
I know it’s all wrong, but it feels so damn right and it should be my first sign.
6
Marvel
H er face —it’s all I saw when I wanted to die. Die, take my last breath, and escape the torture of Saint and his men. If being beaten wasn’t enough, the visions of my best friend dying in front of me were. Surviving is the last thing I’ve ever wanted and may be the worse punishment God has delivered.
My world is black as I drift in and out and remember her words about my family. Granddad’s in the hospital. My brothers actually want to see me, and all I want is death. The inevitable blackness takes over, causing all my worries, horrible memories, or fucking hatred left to haunt me to dissipate forever.
The burn of her kiss is the last thing for me to remember.
7
Clover
I stand back a bit leaning on the hallway wall listening to the doctors explain in detail Marvel’s condition, and I don’t miss the FBI agents who are also listening. The doctors’ main concerns are saving his leg and beating the flesh-eating disease.
“Thank you.” Maverik rises up to shake each doctor’s hand while Merek follows suit.
“It will be a long night with several more surgeries to come, but it looks like your brother was quite lucky.” The two doctors walk off, leaving the Slatters in shock. It’s written all over each of their faces.
An awkward silence settles in as the agents stay close to the Slatters. A new cowboy I’ve never met has joined the group.
“Clover.” Ella races up to me, automatically wrapping me up in a hug. “Are you okay?”
Finally, the touch of a friend after the most traumatizing night of my life leaves me feeling very emotional, even with the threat of tears. From finding Marvel, to being interrogated, to my uncle Saint being an asshole, and then finishing the night holding Marvel, all of it collides together letting the dark storm cloud above my head open up.
“I’m okay.” I step back, wiping the tears from my eyes, trying to keep the flood of them back.
“What happened?” Merek asks.
I follow Ella over to the couches and take a seat on the single peach ottoman.
“I decided to go home tonight to have dinner with my uncle and aunt.” I pull all my hair back, tying it up in a messy bun as I talk. “I got lost. It was so dark, but when I turned my car around I
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