I couldn’t help but wrinkle my nose, and as I moved, I realized I was not in a bedroom but a hospital room. I had one of those devices on my finger that registers a person’s pulse, or heart rate, I’m not sure. I have never been a doctor, and most of what I know is from watching hospital dramas. They’re not exactly known for being medically accurate.
Sitting up in bed, I see I’m hooked up to some clear fluid, and I remembered talking with Odin at the nightclub. The Black Rose seemed to ring a bell. I put my hand on the needle that has the fluid attached, and I’d seen this in so many shows, but as I touched it, I couldn’t help but gasp.
“The doctor will take that out when he feels it is ready.”
I looked up to find my husband, Odin, walking into the room. In his hands was a bouquet of roses, bright red and beautiful. Seeing them, I wondered if they were for me. I’ve never been given flowers in my life, and they looked beautiful.
“Are those, uh, for me?” I asked. Great, now I seemed desperate.
Odin smiled and nodded. “These are for you.”
“How did you know I liked roses?” I asked.
“Lucky guess.”
They came complete with a vase, and he moved to put them near the window, where I also saw a card.
“A card? Someone sent me a card?” I asked.
“You seem a little taken aback.”
“I never got a birthday card, so getting anything is kind of a shock.”
Odin stared at me for several minutes. “You didn’t get a birthday card?”
“My family didn’t see the point in wasting a card.” I wasn’t going to tell him my sisters got cards, and they were considered a waste of time for me. I was the youngest daughter, and the outcast.
Odin picked up the card and brought it over to me to read. It was from him, and it wished me all the best, and to get well soon.
“Get well soon,” I said.
I closed the card, and it had a little teddy bear on the front. It was so cute and so sweet.
“I, uh, don’t mean to put a damper on anything, but could you tell me, kind of, well, you know, what happened?” I asked.
Odin took a seat on the bed. He didn’t reach out, nor touch me. I stared into his eyes, and it was like he was attempting to find control, which I couldn’t understand.
“We were talking at the nightclub. Do you remember that?” he asked.
“Yeah, I remember drinking your scotch, and if this is what happens, I don’t know why you drink that stuff.” I couldn’t help but wrinkle my nose. Why did anyone drink alcohol at all, if this is what it did to you? That stuff was poison.
“Scotch, if you drink plenty of it, will force you to have your stomach pumped, but we’re talking about a lot of it. That drink wasn’t just scotch, Alba. That drink had been spiked with poison. A poison used by your family in the Serra Mafia.”
His words sank in, and then they registered and I stared at him, and I’m pretty sure my mouth might have fallen open, because I was shocked.
“Poison?”
“Yes. Your family wanted to poison me.”
“You’re serious.”
“Yes, and I stopped you from dying. There were several times the effect of the poison was causing you to vomit, and we had to make sure we were there, so you were not sick.”
That explains why I smelled like absolute horseshit. Actually, I felt I smelled even worse than that.
“Poison.” I spoke the word aloud in the hope it would register exactly what it meant, and it was like my head was a complete blank. I didn’t know what to make of it. It didn’t seem right at all.
I gripped the back of my neck, and I wanted to cry, scream, and just let go. I could have died last night, which was why I felt like crap. My family was going to kill my husband. I didn’t care about me, or the fact I had drunk it. That poison could have killed my husband, and in that moment, I hated them.
