Mafia Men: Nikolai's Inferno - Chapter 118: Chapter 118

-Nikolai-
"I have a really busy day ahead," I said to her, making the precise knot of my tie. I glanced at her every second through the mirror, I tugged at my sleeves to straighten them out. "I'll come home late..." 2 I put on my watch and my suit jacket before I made my way to her, placing a kiss on her forehead, "Don't wait up for me."
She blinked at me and I smiled down at her. I turned to walk out of the room but I froze in utter shock as the realization suddenly struck me, unable to move a muscle to take even a single step out of the room. Did she just blink at me?!
My hand stilled over the doorknob, it took a few moments for it to sink in, her eyes were open and she just fucking blinked at me.
My eyebrows went up to the fucking sky and I turned running back towards the bed to her side.
I swallowed as I saw her eyes wide open, she wasn't staring at me or focusing on anything, her eyes moved around before settling on the ceiling, and she blinked multiple times. Then her lips slowly parted and she let out a soft breath, a little sigh.
I grinned like a fucking fool as I stared at her, it felt like my heart fucking expanded in size, as if it would burst from happiness, "Evangeline?"
She moved her eyes to me and the second our eyes met, her heartbeat accelerated. I could see it, I could see it on the fucking heart monitor machine or whatever the shit it's called.
I softly touched her face, "Evangeline?"
Her finger moved just slightly as if she was trying hard to move, to talk but couldn't, a tear slid down the side of her face and I gently wiped it before calling the doctor.
Her expression changed to one of confusion and disorientation. She seemed lost, nervous, and a little pained by her unfamiliar surroundings. The doctor said there might be a chance that she might get amnesia but it can't happen to us. Fuck no...
"I'm gonna call the doctor, alright?" I told her; she gazed at me for a few seconds.
In the next hour, the doctors arrived, and they did some tests on her to see if her brain was functioning properly or if there was some damage. She seemed fine, she looked fine, I hoped that she was fine.
I waited outside, for a man, who had watched people die the most gruesome death his whole life, the man who had tortured people to the point of breaking them mentally, physically, and emotionally; I couldn't stand the image of her wincing or flinching at whatever the doctors were doing to her. I might lose my mind and kill them all. They were going to remove the feeding tube and everything else that wasn't needed now that she had gained consciousness.
The doctors and the nurses came out of the room, I was leaning against the wall opposite our bedroom door. The medical staff was from our own hospital, and the members of the Cosa Nostra needed medical help more than an average person does, so having your own hospital means less questioning or prying into our personal matters.
"She's hysterical right now, she isn't responding well to the news and her body will take time to heal before she can get back to normal. She spaced out two times between the test, she can't talk or write right now, I hope she makes full recovery because most patients forget to read and write after being in a coma for a long time. It will take time for her to get back to normal, we can just hope these lingering comatose effects aren't long-term. She'd need a physiotherapist to regularize her bodily movement, and she will have trouble walking, and doing normal daily life tasks, I have prescribed her some medication that would help her," he explained, how I'm not supposed to make her tense, or trying not to spook her that would cause her to put strain over her brain.
"Thank you..." I thanked the medical staff before walking them out of the house.
I made my way back to our bedroom and saw her laying still on her back, staring up at the ceiling as tears rolled down the side of her face.
I walked inside and her whimpers seized when she heard my footsteps. I dropped to my haunches beside the bed, leveling her face with mine. It was nice to look at her and just her without all those wires and tubes sticking out of her body. She still had a nasogastric feeding tube in her nose because she couldn't eat right now.
"Evangeline..."
WEEK TWO
For the past week, she had been trying to talk, at first, it was just a single word. Then it got to two words and then the next day it was three but now she could make a whole sentence. She had only talked to nurses, whenever I am in the room, she is either asleep or staring up at the ceiling mindlessly.
If I tried to get closer to her, she'd squirm in her place, displeasure always too prominent and I'd withdraw my hands immediately as if I had burned her.
I tried talking to her but she doesn't give me a response, she only has an occasional hum sometimes. She could now wiggle her toes, raise her hand just slightly, and move her neck around.
It was fucking painful to see her like this but the need to make her all better was fucking more. I sat beside her on the bed, playing with the short strands of her luscious hair, getting them away from her forehead.
Her eyes slowly fluttered open and she looked up at me. Her lips parted and she frowned at me. She looked around the room before her eyes settled back on my face.
"W-who are you?" she asked, her voice scratchy, tired.
My heart sank to the bottom of my stomach as I shook my head in disbelief. No, this cannot be happening to her, to us. It's like I'm living in a nightmare that I can't wake up from. I love her, and I'm so scared of what may happen now that she has woken up from a coma with disorientation and possible amnesia.
How many times do I have to lose her and get her back again and then fucking lose her again? 2
I touched her face and caressed her cheeks. "Evangeline, you don't remember me?"
She shook her head, slightly, her fingers twitching, "No... I-" she raised her hand and touched the nasogastric tube in her nose, "Who are you?"
I squeezed my eyes shut, I had an ache in my gut, and I felt like I might commit a fucking massacre right now. Maybe, it was karma, my karma and she fucking has to pay the price for it. Why couldn't I be the fucking one to get shot instead of her, at least I fucking deserved it.
I hung my head, "Fuck..."
"Asshole..." she whispered.
"I know I'm the biggest there is..."
"Mhm, I hate you..."
"No, you d-" my gaze shot back to her face, she looked at me with a frown before her lips slightly tugged upwards. I furrowed my eyebrows. "Are you messing with me?!"
She coughed, clearing her throat, "Maybe..."
My eyebrows fucking flew above my head. "Seriously, Evangeline, you are fucking with me at this fucking moment?!" 3
She again looked around the room, she was staring at the machines and continuously touched the feeding tube. "When are they going to take this out?"
"You did not just pull this fucking stunt on me after fucking waking up from a fucking coma after two fucking long-ass months."
She swallowed, licking her lips, "You want to drink water?" I asked and she nodded.
I poured some water into a glass and made her drink it with a tablespoon, a gloss shined over her eyes once more and I let out a dry breath. She was hating this, hate being this helpless and at other people's
mercy.
Once she was done, I put the glass of water back on the nightstand and caressed her cheek, it was like I have heard her talk after a year. I smiled at her.
"Why are you being so n-nice to me? I thought you hated me..."
"I can never hate you, baby girl."
"But-"
I cut her off, "Let's not talk about this right now, alright? We have all the time in the world, right now you need to focus on getting better."
"Dante is dead, isn't he?" she asked.
I let out a breath. "Yes..."
A hint of pain flashed in her eyes, "Scott and Lorenzo?"
"They are alive, very much alive."
She opened her mouth and then closed it, she did it a couple more times like she was having difficulty asking about something, "And Enzo?"
His name ignited a blazing fire inside of me. "Scott snapped his neck and I threw his dead body to my hounds, I'm pretty sure, they are still gnawing on his bones."
"Everyone died?"
I took a deep breath, she was asking about the rest of Moretti's men. The pain in her voice told me how much she cared about them, "Not all, a few are alive but they are in my captivity. I want you to deal with
them yourself after you've healed."
"Leo?"
"He's fine and alive..."
"Y-you d-didn't kill h-him?"
Fuck, she was having so much trouble speaking simple words.
"You love him, you care about him. I wanted to but I didn't."
She again tried to nod, "I want to meet them..."
I held her hand that relentlessly trembled and covered it with my other hand, "No, what you need is to get better first. Then I'll take you wherever you want, whenever you want."
-°°
WEEK THREE
She sat on a chair with my help and then started to cry. The doctors had removed the nasogastric feeding tube, but she was still on a liquid diet and couldn't eat on her own.
I touched her lips with the spoon urging her to part them. She just cried harder and squeezed them close even more, "Evangeline, proper nutrition is fucking important right now. Do you want to walk again?
Then you need to eat!"
Sniffling, she opened her mouth before taking in the spoon.
"I can't feel my legs..." she cried harder, "It's like they are there but they are asleep, I feel when someone touches them and I can't walk. I can't-"
I touched her leg, running my hand up and down, "It will be fine in a few weeks, I hired a physiotherapist for you. It's going to be alright, Angel..."
"I hate this..." she whispered as I put another spoonful of soup into her mouth.
"You're getting there, it will be fine."
She sniffled, looking at me with a frown. "Why are you doing this?"
I stared at her, "Doing what?"
"This... taking care of me as if everything is just fine and dandy between us."
I sighed, "You're my wife, aren't you?"
She gave her head a gentle shake, "I don't think so... no after what happened."
"I know you weren't behind it."
"And if you didn't? Would you still have taken care of me?"
I fed her once more, "Maybe..."
"No, you wouldn't have," she said with such confidence that it aggravated me. She let out a humorless laugh, "What is it? Guilt?"
I gave her a hard look, "Maybe, I just love you too fucking much and I have no fucking control over my fucking brain when it comes to you."
Her eyes cut to me with a mocking glare, "Love me? What's love without trust, Nikolai?"
I softly put the spoon into her mouth, "I'll make it up to you, I promise."
"Give me a divorce then?" she said, and the look in her eyes sent a chill down my spine.
She fucking hated me.