Rome, Italy
August 2017
“Krasavica,” he whispered into my ear, as his stubble grazed my jaw and his hand moved lower, squeezing my hip possessively. My back arched into his touch, seeking the comfort only he could provide.
He gently nipped my chin, trailing his soft lips to my neck as he breathed me in. “Krasavica,” he groaned, as a moan escaped my lips, and I laced my fingers in his hair, enjoying the silky strands under them.
I opened my mouth and was about to reply, when suddenly the scenery changed.
Instead, a dark-haired man with an awful dragon tattoo loomed over me, an arm on each side of my head, as I tried unsuccessfully to push him away. “Rosa,” he chuckled, pressing his erection into my abused flesh. “Finally.”
My eyes snapped open as my scream echoed in the room. My body was drenched in sweat. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I tried desperately to suck air into my lungs.
The door opened swiftly. Then Ciara ran in and wrapped her arms around my shoulders while patting my back soothingly. “Shhh, Angelica. It was just a nightmare,” she chanted, while my heart beat rapidly against my ribcage.
Closing my eyes, I wished I could go back to the part of the dream where a handsome man called me hiskrasavicaand everything seemed right in the world.
Even if it only lasted for a second in the night.
Florence, Italy
September 2017
“Eh, are you sure you are engaged,belissima? Maybe I should steal you from your intended, huh?” Tilting my head back, I giggled, all the while making sure the IV drip was put in place correctly and Mr. Piero’s pulse was monitored.
“Afraid it can’t be done.”
He nodded, but his eyes still glinted with mischief. “Too bad, but at least he treats you right.”
As the liquid flowed into his system, I patted his arm gently and gave him my forced smile. I’d become quite an expert at that since no one could shut up about Oliver. “You’re all set, Piero.” I turned away to go to another patient, but he grabbed my hand and, to my surprise, squeezed it hard. As much as the old man liked to joke and chat, never once had he tried anything more. Instantly, my survival instincts went on alert as the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Why I had such a reaction whenever any male touched me, I had no clue, but there it was.
Noticing my tension, he let me go immediately, and then softly murmured, “Never do in life something you don’t want. It never ends well.”
Okay, maybe I wasn't as good as I thought at faking happiness about the upcoming wedding.
Without reply—because really, what could be said in this situation anyway—I spun around and marched out, leaning against the wall between the rooms and closing my eyes to gather myself for a second.
The hallways of the surgical floor in the hospital reeked of antiseptic and bleach, and sometimes I wished I could bathe in the scent so it would wash away all my fears and doubts.
After a month of unsuccessfully trying to become inspired with the whole art thing, I was ready to call it quits. Ciara was against it, but advised me to go visit the hospital where I frequently left my ceramic toys in the pediatric wing to cheer up some kids. Having found some in stock and being so freaking ready to run away from the studio, I agreed without much thought.
Stepping inside felt like coming home after a long journey, and the energy and adrenalin pulled me in. I stayed for hours watching the ER, where doctors tried their best to help everyone. And then I did something that changed my life.
A woman screamed that she needed a fucking bandage, because she couldn't take any more pain from her burns and cuts, but no nurse or doctor seemed to pay her any attention.
Instinctively, I rushed toward her. Then my hands of their own accord, without my brain registering the action, removed the damaged skin, spread ointment on the burns, wrapped her hands tight, and gave her a sedative, because she was almost hysterical. Checking her heartbeat a few times, I was satisfied and ready to leave, when I saw two surgeons who looked at me dumbstruck.
After that, they asked me if I’d like to work there, and I said yes.
And never had I been happier than during the hours spent in the hospital, where past ghosts didn't haunt me. Although I knew Vito had something to do with my employment, as no one hired interns without checking their background, I didn’t care. I was supervised for the first month, but it was as if muscle memory kicked in. They just mostly watched me, bored, as I didn't need any instructions.
My safe harbor.
My phone vibrated loudly in my pocket, and I gazed down to read that Mother was calling me. Taking a deep breath, I answered on the fourth ring. “Hi, Mama.”
“Where are you?” she asked sharply.
Taken aback by her attitude, I replied, “At the hospital.”
