Twenty-Six: "𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙋𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙣."

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"And it all comes out so lame. I love your mouth. I love your hair. I love your ears. I want you. I want you. I want you. Anything to avoid saying: I love you."

- Erica Jong ~ Fear of Flying

- Erica Jong ~ Fear of Flying

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T W O Y E A R S A G O

"Where the fuck is she?" I ask, annoyed at the woman in front of me.

She gulps, nodding at me to follow her after grabbing a clipboard. Although most of the nurses know of my temper, none of them bother to confront me. I pay them too damn much.

"I apologise, Mr. Mikael, Ms. Miller asked to be moved to a standard room and wouldn't take her medicine otherwis-"

"I don't give a shit. If I pay you to keep her in a V.I.P. room, I sure as hell expect her to be there. And I expect to be called whenever she does shit like this." I murmur the last part, annoyed and angry as fuck at her behavior. Stubborn lady.

Brushing past the nurse who sends me an apologetic smile, I shake my head at Emily, who's dipping cookies in her tea with a magazine in her hand. This room doesn't even have a side table.

"You need to stop doing this, Emily. Just stay in the damn room."

"Ricky, my son, I'm the one with cancer here. Unless you're giving me grandchildren, I'm not hearing it." Here we go again.

"For fucks sake, this room doesn't even have a side table. Just go back." I sigh as I look around the plain standard hospital room.

She won't get the best care in this shithole. And we all know the VIP's are given more importance.

She would be given more importance.

I walk towards her when she ushers me forward, making space for me on the small, average sized bed.

Emily kisses my head before taking the gun out of my waistband, shaking her head then setting it on the side. "And you need to stop bringing guns here."

"It's my job."

She lays her head on my shoulder, her smooth head making me frown. The long blonde hair is gone but my mother is still as beautiful.

"But it's not who you are, Ricky. Someone's going to see that one day, and I'm going to get little grandchildren."

Emily smirks as if she's planning something and I attempt to get off the bed, annoyed by her antics.

Every damn time I come here- which is everyday- she feels the need to bring up kids and marriage. Forgetting that I'm only fucking nineteen.

"You know, it'd be nice if you could bring along a nice girl sometimes." Emily sighs before feigning a mournful look, pulling up the blue hospital sheets that look low-quality. Is she even comfortable?

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