smile of sadness, not one of relief, as she shook her head, a peculiar twinkle in her dark eyes, like maybe he amused her. “What are we going to do with you, Mr. Galante?"
He tried to respond, his lips parting, but no sound came out. Not a breath. Not a whisper. Nothing.
“It's okay,” the woman said, leaning closer. “Whatever it is can wait."
Not long after those words registered, darkness crept in, swaddling Dante like a blanket. As the world faded black around him, all he could think was, if I have to die, please… please… don't let it be alone in the dark again.
He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, drugs running through his system so intense that he felt not a damn thing. And when he awoke later, he couldn’t move. Again. This time, though, he couldn’t even raise his arm. He managed to cut his eyes to the side, unnerved, his gaze settling on his hand. Thick cloth bands secured him to the bed like handcuffs. He struggled against them, trying to pull away, but they were too strong, or maybe he was just too weak. Exhaustion crept in a minute later, and he just lay there, gaze flickering to the ceiling, feeling defeated. Helplessness wasn’t something Dante was accustomed to, and it wasn’t a feeling he liked. A fucking machine was doing most of his breathing. Could he even say he was alive if his lungs wouldn’t work without help?
The glass door across the room slid open. Dante didn’t bother to try to look. Whatever drugs flowed through his veins faded more and more as the seconds ticked away. He flexed his fingers, the tips of them tingling, but he did little else in the way of trying to move. With consciousness came pain, a dull ache echoing through him, growing stronger.
He preferred it, though… preferred it to the numbness.
Someone approached, pausing beside the bed. Dante noticed them from his peripheral but didn’t turn his head, instead closing his eyes to block out whoever it was.
“I know you’re awake.” Her voice was borderline playful, so close her words ghosted across his battered skin. “Your vitals give you away."
Dante opened his eyes again, his gaze meeting hers. His vision was clearer than it had been, clear enough to get a better look. She wore a pair of blue scrubs, a white badge clipped to the pocket. Try as he might, he couldn’t make out any of the words written on it.
Even in dim lighting, though, Dante could tell she was beautiful. She was young, probably fresh out of nursing school, with a smile he suspected lit up a room, even one his presence darkened. Exotic, maybe even Italian, the kind of girl he could've brought home without any objections. In another life, he might've pursued her. In another world, he could've seen himself with a girl like her.
But in reality, she was probably much too sweet, much too kind for her own good.
The only angel he was destined to know was the fallen one.
He looked away again and stared at the ceiling. How long was this going to last? He had no idea how much time had passed. He didn’t even know where he was. There were dozens of hospitals in the city. He could’ve been at any one of them. Last thing he remembered was a basement. How the hell had he gotten out of there? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it.
He should’ve been dead.
He should be dead.
Why wasn’t he?
“You’re the most strong-willed person I’ve ever encountered,” the woman said, pressing a few buttons on some machines beside him. “You’re just laying there, not in distress at all, not fighting the ventilator."
Without looking at her, Dante struggled against the restraints to make a point. There wasn’t shit he could do strapped down like a prisoner.
She laughed lightly. "Oh, no… I know you’d try to rip it out if your hands were free. You’ve done it a few times this past week."
Week.
He’d been there a week?
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” she continued. “Most patients, they find it excruciating. We have to keep them so sedated they’re comatose or else they choke on the ventilator. And I get it, you know… it’s uncomfortable. Unnatural. I understand why they fight. But you’re just lying there, silent and still, biding your time. I’ve never seen someone so stubbornly calm before."
Dante glanced at her again. Her curiosity seemed genuine, but any explanation he offered wouldn't be what she’d want to