Hospital of Hell

Twenty-Three

Scarlett

It's been seven long dreadful days since my sister was brought into Hell.

I have worked every day since, waiting on his next victim. I want, no I need, all information possible I can get on this sadistic son of a bitch. In my few years I have spent dealing with the mafia and their men, I have never seen something quite this feral.

I have never thought about genuinely harming another human being. Maybe like the occasional thought of wanting to slap a man who's screaming in the hospital bed, but never have I craved to see an individual's blood splatter across my delicate skin. But in this moment, it is all I can hope for. All I pray for.

"Star, if you don't go home I will call the Don," Saraphine speaks to me quietly as we walk towards the nurses station.

I scoff, not paying much mind to her seemingly innocent comment. I am a grown woman, If I am deciding to mute my anger and sadness by letting my work scream over it, so be it.

My sister went home two days after the incident. Her and my mother are heavily protected per orders of the Don. My father still lays captive in some unknown location. Everyone assumes he is dead, and if he was literally anyone else, he would be. After meeting with Axton and Amir, I asked them not to kill him quite yet, to my surprise they obliged.

Rick is dead. He deserved what he received. I feel terrible, but I can't fight the small ache in my chest knowing that he will in fact never see the light of day again. Hatred for myself really burns through my core. He hurt one of the only people I truly love and care for, yet the memories we created still tries to swim through the ocean of sadness to the surface of my mind.

"Star! I am serious. You have clocked in a hundred and three hours in seven days. Go the fuck home. I get that you're hurting or you're angry, whatever it may be. You need to cope, and taking care of everyone else when you need to be taken care of isn't healthy." She continues on with her spiel as I look at her blankly. She is right, I cannot deny it, however I can ignore it.

My sister has been taking the entire situation a lot better than I had imagined. Soon after she fully came too, she was laughing and joking around as if she wasn't just brutally sodomized. I attempted to talk with her and really analyze if she was putting on a facade to keep my mom at bay, but she held her own and did her best to convince me that she was okay. She refused to make any comments about Rick, other than asking 'is he dead'.

After work I have been taking nightly walks, attempting to appear as naive and vulnerable as possible despite the Glock tucked into my waistband. The bastard won't take the bait, probably because all of his victims thus far has been minors. It's a stupid tactic, but I don't know what to do. I'm lost. I'm used to figuring everything out by myself, waiting on no one, but I can't this time.

The day drags on, my body slowly losing it's momentum.

"I am going to pack your wound and get you admitted. It will be a while until we can get you a bed, but I'll be back with your dressing in just a moment," I explain to man with a knife wound in his abdomen. He pulled it out in the field. After two blood transfusions he is finally stable.

I walk out of the room, headed towards the medical supply room. I don't make it but five feet until my arm is snatched, and I am turned to face who I believe is Axton. I am still learning on how to decipher who is who.

"The fuck are you doing, Scar?" He growls out, a small bruise on his left cheek.

"What're you talking about?"

"You're going home," he ignores my question, pulling me towards the break-room that holds all of my stuff.

I pull against him, prepared to throw a fit. "Let me the fuck go, Axton," I hiss out, ignoring the looks from my peers as I am literally dragged to the room. He shuts the door behind us, and I stand there with my arms crossed.