were in the past. Too bad they wouldn’t let go of him.
“Are you okay?” the girl tilted her head to the side, slightly relaxing her curled up position as she rocked her body.
“Yes—” He swatted away a mosquito buzzing too close. “I’m fine.” Trying to soften the scowl he knew was on his face, he smiled and waved his hand in greeting again. “I’m Raphael.”
“Carla.” She lowered her chin to her knees. “Why were you here this morning?”
Lowering his shoulder, he let his bag fall to the floor, then leaned against the footboard. “It didn’t feel right to leave you alone last night.” His eyes went to the faded bruises on her jaw. “Plus, everyone around here is mortal, and you might have needed help to skedaddle before having to explain your miraculous healing.”
As Carla listened to him, her facial expression changed from surprise to shock. “Wait. You stayed the whole night?”
Looking for a more comfortable position, he hugged the bed frame with one arm and raised his black boot to the mattress. “Yes.”
She gave the boot a raised brow and he straightened his leg. “I don’t understand. We never met before,” she said.
With a shrug, he changed position yet again, then sat on the edge of the bed, feet planted on the floor, elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his united hands. “I thought you could use the help. That’s it.”
“Thanks.”
“No biggie.”
“I’m sorry I screamed at you.”
“You must have had your reasons.” The overhead light was harsh, and he squinted at Carla.
A long silence followed, then she sniffled once, tears followed and she was soon crying. “I was given to two boys—” Her chest shook with uncontrollable sobs and she brought both hands to her eyes. “They… they—” Words ran together until her speech became unintelligible. Clutching her stomach, she finally said, “I’m only alive because one of the two came back to check on me, and when he saw all the blood, he panicked. I remember him staunching the cuts I made on my wrists with his shirt. Then he scooped me up and drove me here.” Despite the tears, by the end her voice had become calm and much colder. “I hate them for what they did to me.” She raised her eyes to his. “And I hate him for not letting me die.” Then as if she had spent the last sparkle of energy left in her, she collapsed to the bed and cradled herself into a fetal position, her eyes closed.
Raphael scooted closer to her and lowered his hand toward her head, but let it hover, worried the gesture would upset her. She surprised him though, sitting up and seeking the comfort of his arms. He had no words for her. Nothing he would say could lessen her suffering, but he embraced her closer and gave her a shoulder to cry on. Later, when her sobs lessened and her breathing evened, he released her to the bed and rearranged her pillow, then tucked her in.
“Try to get some sleep. I’ll come back tomorrow.” He scooped his bag from the floor and pushed himself up.
Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Thank you.”
“Bye, kid,” one of the male nurses greeted Raphael on his way out of the infirmary.
The clock on the wall wasn’t working, but one glance at the cell phone, Quintilius’s gift, confirmed he had missed his ride. It was past midnight, and the next bus to Vescovio Place—where the alpha owned the building complex Raphael lived in—wouldn’t be by for another hour. The idea of waiting out in the street didn’t sound appealing to him, so he dragged his feet back into the infirmary where he huddled on a stretcher.
Loud cries woke Raphael in the middle of a nightmare starring his father. A bleeding boy was being carried in by a nun who yelled as loud as her charge.
The male nurse and the same doctor from the night before rushed to help the nun. The nurse took the kid from the woman’s arms as the doctor fired question after question. Raphael watched the scene unfold from his corner, but
“Are you okay?” the girl tilted her head to the side, slightly relaxing her curled up position as she rocked her body.
“Yes—” He swatted away a mosquito buzzing too close. “I’m fine.” Trying to soften the scowl he knew was on his face, he smiled and waved his hand in greeting again. “I’m Raphael.”
“Carla.” She lowered her chin to her knees. “Why were you here this morning?”
Lowering his shoulder, he let his bag fall to the floor, then leaned against the footboard. “It didn’t feel right to leave you alone last night.” His eyes went to the faded bruises on her jaw. “Plus, everyone around here is mortal, and you might have needed help to skedaddle before having to explain your miraculous healing.”
As Carla listened to him, her facial expression changed from surprise to shock. “Wait. You stayed the whole night?”
Looking for a more comfortable position, he hugged the bed frame with one arm and raised his black boot to the mattress. “Yes.”
She gave the boot a raised brow and he straightened his leg. “I don’t understand. We never met before,” she said.
With a shrug, he changed position yet again, then sat on the edge of the bed, feet planted on the floor, elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his united hands. “I thought you could use the help. That’s it.”
“Thanks.”
“No biggie.”
“I’m sorry I screamed at you.”
“You must have had your reasons.” The overhead light was harsh, and he squinted at Carla.
A long silence followed, then she sniffled once, tears followed and she was soon crying. “I was given to two boys—” Her chest shook with uncontrollable sobs and she brought both hands to her eyes. “They… they—” Words ran together until her speech became unintelligible. Clutching her stomach, she finally said, “I’m only alive because one of the two came back to check on me, and when he saw all the blood, he panicked. I remember him staunching the cuts I made on my wrists with his shirt. Then he scooped me up and drove me here.” Despite the tears, by the end her voice had become calm and much colder. “I hate them for what they did to me.” She raised her eyes to his. “And I hate him for not letting me die.” Then as if she had spent the last sparkle of energy left in her, she collapsed to the bed and cradled herself into a fetal position, her eyes closed.
Raphael scooted closer to her and lowered his hand toward her head, but let it hover, worried the gesture would upset her. She surprised him though, sitting up and seeking the comfort of his arms. He had no words for her. Nothing he would say could lessen her suffering, but he embraced her closer and gave her a shoulder to cry on. Later, when her sobs lessened and her breathing evened, he released her to the bed and rearranged her pillow, then tucked her in.
“Try to get some sleep. I’ll come back tomorrow.” He scooped his bag from the floor and pushed himself up.
Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Thank you.”
“Bye, kid,” one of the male nurses greeted Raphael on his way out of the infirmary.
The clock on the wall wasn’t working, but one glance at the cell phone, Quintilius’s gift, confirmed he had missed his ride. It was past midnight, and the next bus to Vescovio Place—where the alpha owned the building complex Raphael lived in—wouldn’t be by for another hour. The idea of waiting out in the street didn’t sound appealing to him, so he dragged his feet back into the infirmary where he huddled on a stretcher.
Loud cries woke Raphael in the middle of a nightmare starring his father. A bleeding boy was being carried in by a nun who yelled as loud as her charge.
The male nurse and the same doctor from the night before rushed to help the nun. The nurse took the kid from the woman’s arms as the doctor fired question after question. Raphael watched the scene unfold from his corner, but
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