Page 117 of Diary of a Mafia Princess

But to end my life.

His worries were valid. Hadn’t I thought of doing exactly that back at my father’s house? Hadn’t things only gotten worse since I’d been here?

“I’ll be back in a second,” he said.

As soon as he was gone, tears slid down my cheeks. A hysterical sob worked its way up my chest, and I let it out, because it was either that or choke on it.

But I was back under control by the time he walked back in with a first aid kit.

The expression in his eyes told me he knew I’d been crying though, and I cursed my probably blotchy face.

I reached for the kit. “Give it here.”

He shook his head. “Just lie there, would you? Let me help you.”

I clutched the sheet over my breasts, careful not to let it touch the burn. “Don’t put anything on it. You’re not supposed to put—”

“I know. I remember from my own. Cold water. Clean non-stick bandage. Painkillers.” He held a packet out to me. “Here. Take two. Or fuck, maybe take four. This thing shouldn’t be too deep, but it’s going to hurt like a bitch for a while.”

I popped the pills greedily, desperate for anything to take the edge off.

He found a large square dressing and carefully put it over the burn, then taped the edges down. It didn’t help any with the pain, and I was scared it was going to get infected, what with the grimy floor I’d spent the day lying on with no treatment.

But he touched me with a gentleness I hadn’t known he was capable of. And I suspected he was helping me, the way he’d wished someone had helped him back when he’d been thirteen.

“Thank you,” I whispered when he was done.

“I’ve already left a message for our doctor to come see you tomorrow. I don’t want that getting infected.”

“Neither do I.”

He nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Okay then.” He stared at me awkwardly, like there was more he wanted to say but didn’t know how. He cleared his throat. “If you don’t see me for a few days, don’t worry, okay?”

I frowned at him. “Why wouldn’t I see you?”

He shook his head. “I’m probably going to have to go away for a bit. I’ll be back.”

I nodded, suddenly feeling sleepier than I ever had in my life. It was like my brain had finally registered that I was in a safe place and it could shut down. “I think I need to sleep.”

He stood and gathered up all the medical supplies. “Make sure the doctor gives you more dressings tomorrow, so you can keep it clean. I’ll see you in a few days. I’ll lock the door on my way out.”

We both knew that wouldn’t stop anyone.

But I said okay anyway. My brain felt foggy. And I realized the pills he’d given me had to be a lot stronger than acetaminophen. My burn barely hurt at all anymore, and my body had a fuzzy, pleasant feeling about it. I just wanted to sleep. “Have a good trip. Love you.”

He chuckled above me. “I see those painkillers have kicked in.”

I couldn’t even understand why he’d said that. Or work out why he was laughing. But I felt fingertips brush across my forehead and tuck my hair behind my ear.

“Go to sleep, Nyah. Those pills should mean you don’t feel a thing until morning.”

“Nice pills,” I mumbled, letting the chemical fog wash away all the pain and fear and stress. “Love you, Dax.”

He didn’t laugh again, and I was sad. I loved Dax’s laugh.

But the room fell quiet around me, and I slept.

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