The Wrath of Cain(64)

“Calla.”

The sweet sound of my mother’s voice hugs me. I can feel her hand on top of mine.

“Sweetheart. Don’t try and move.”

Unable to move my head, my eyes search out her voice. Tears flow down her face. Her appearance is unlike her. She’s pale, and there’s a silent void in her eyes.

I need to know what happened. Where am I? Where’s Dad? Manny? Cain?

“Water,” I manage to croak out.

She brings a Styrofoam cup with a straw to my lips. I take a small sip. The coolness of the water does very little for my parched mouth.

“I know you have a lot of questions. However, I have been instructed by the doctor to keep you calm if you were to wake up before he gets back.”

Calm? Why? What happened? What is she not telling me? My lids become increasingly heavy again. I try to fight falling out of consciousness. It’s no use, my body is too weak. I drift back into the unknown where everything once again is the awful color of black.

“Mom?” I jolt awake this time. The room is dark.

“Calla, baby.” I hear him. Cain. He sounds so tired.

“Jesus, baby. You’re awake.”

“My shoulder,” I say.

“It’s fine. You’re going to be fine.” He bends and kisses me on my cheek.

“Manny?”

“He’s fine, too. Both of you have been through hell and survived.”

“My dad?” I can’t see him. It’s too dark.

“Cain?” I begin to panic.

“I’m right here, my girl.”

I lift my hand, trying to find anything for it to come in contact with for support. I feel the warmth of someone’s hand. My dad’s hand. I squeeze it. My body begins to tremble. I attempt to stifle my sobs at first, to show my strength. It’s no use. The salty tears fall down my face to my quivering lips.

“Hey, no crying. I’m here. You’re safe.”

A warm hand presses against my back. I would know that hand anywhere. Every time it touches me, I feel myself come to life. My adrenaline soars and my heart rate picks up, all from the simple touch of his hand. He moves it in slow, comforting circles, a small token to try and help me drown out my sorrows and misery.

“I don’t want to go back to sleep. I want to know what happened. I need to see Manny. Please,” I croak.

“I’m right here.”

Manny’s voice has me more alert than before. I’m happy to hear them all. Irritated doesn’t begin to scratch the surface that I cannot see them.

“I need to see you,” I say.

I’m welcomed with silence once again.

“Seriously?” I question, my irritation turning to anger. “I’m not a child. I want to see him.”

The click of a light switch comes from the corner of the room. A soft yellow glow cascades from the lamp. My dad is the first person I see, just like so many mornings when he would get me out of bed and help get me ready for school.

“Where’s mom?”

He has a slightly impressed grin on his face.

“She’s upstairs taking a shower.”

“Upstairs? Where am I?”

“We’re at Salvatore’s.”

I go to speak but my dad silences me with his finger.

“An ambulance brought both you and Manny here. No hospital, sweetheart. Too many questions would have been asked if you were taken there. You’ve been treated with the best doctors around, Calla. We have round the clock nursing staff here. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

The hospital part catches me somewhat off guard. I contemplate what he said for a moment, although I understand more than any of them think I do. My dad, or someone, cleaned up after it all. Knowing my father, he hasn’t left my side, not once. Neither has my mother. Neither has Cain.

“I understand everything, Dad. I do have to say though, you look like shit,” I blurt out. He smirks.

“You think? I probably smell worse than I look. I haven’t showered in four damn days.”

“Four days? That’s how long I’ve been out?”

He lifts his eyes from mine to Cain’s.

“Dad?”

He exhales.

“You’ve been in and out for two weeks, Calla,” Cain says from behind me.

My body is stiff. How I manage to flip over to face him is beyond me. This is my first glimpse of him in two weeks. He has days of scruff on his face, his eyes bloodshot from what I guess is lack of sleep.

“Two weeks?”

That’s impossible. In and out without even realizing that two weeks have passed? Something is not right.

“What is it you three are hiding from me? Is something wrong?”

I may feel weak and somewhat lost, but for God’s sake, if I can handle what happened to me, then I sure as hell can handle whatever they are hiding from me.

“Dad. Please?”

His eyes dart from mine to Cain’s. Whatever it is, it’s bad. The last time I saw this pained expression on my dad’s face was the night he told me he was Salvatore’s hitman. I’m starting to become agitated.

“I’m not a child. I have a right to know!” I insist.

“All right, calm down. It’s not you. You’re going to be fine. The doctors had to keep you in a drug-induced coma. You were so banged up. So drugged up. Hell, with the amount of heroin they injected into you in such a short period of time, we’re damn lucky you’re alive.”