Tavish jumped from the chair to steady her, but she shoved his hands away and walked to the bathroom.
“Fuck.” Immediately, Alistair rose from the bed, ordering, “Tavish Uilleam. Give her something. Something strong.”
Tavish looked at his brother and raked his fingers in his hair. “I can give her a Valium. But she already has low blood pressure. Barbiturates or benzodiazepines-”
“Speak English,” Alistair interrupted. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“Stronger sedatives can increase the risk of the more serious side effects of a low blood pressure. What she needs is time. Time to understand and let it all settle.” He shook his head as he walked to the door. “You can’t just magically solve problems with medicine. Sometimes you just have to trust time, patience and a lot of understanding to do the trick.”
Alistair sighed and followed Sophia into the bathroom.
“He was my husband!” Sophia never felt so much pain. For her, she had been the real cause of Gabriel’s death and it was more than she could bear. “You don’t get it!”
“There’s nothing you can do, Sophia. It wasn’t your fault,” Alistair said.
“It was. Maybe I didn’t pull the trigger, but what I did...” Sophia turned her head to the wall as if trying to bury herself in it. “I turned the gun onto him.” Her loss and her secret weighed on her making her pain and regret even more unbearable. She broke down, wailing.
Alistair had seen her cry before, but it had been nothing like this.
Sophia wasn’t rational. Any coherence had disappeared into an otherworldly oblivion of pain, raw and primal. He carefully pulled her into his arms and held her while she cried.
Sophia bit her fist, trying to stifle the hurtful sobs, but nothing could muffle the painful sounds that left her body.
“Sophia,” Alistair sighed. He looked away for a moment, his throat convulsing. When his eyes came back to meet hers, Sophia was shocked by the amount of tormented ache that swam inside his green eyes. It was as if his eyes mirrored all the hurt she was feeling inside. “My love. Please don’t cry.”
And it wasn’t only in his eyes. Alistair’s voice was leaden with pain, too.
“I know this is hard. Believe me when I say I understand. One day, you’re going to realize that it wasn’t your fault. Remember the facts. Even if you hadn’t reacted, even if you hadn’t been shot, do you think Gabriel would have let them take you? Do you think the man who loved you that much wouldn’t do everything in his power to convince them to take him instead? You couldn’t have prevented that.”
Alistair just held her, feeling as if he were going to break too. His hands ran over her back until she let out a last shuddering breath.
“Alistair Connor.” She managed to grimace. “I hate it when you are so reasonable.”
“Do you really?” He looked at her, content that she had stop crying. “I would have done the same thing, if I’d been in Gabriel’s place. I-”
A knock on the door interrupted Alistair. “Come in,” he ordered and looked over his shoulder to see his brother accompanied by a short, plump, blonde woman casually dressed.
“Sophia, this is my friend, Doctor Evelyne Richardson. She’s a psychiatrist. I explained to her what happened. I think it would be advisable if you talk to her a bit. Would you?”
Sophia instantly took a liking to the gentle woman, “Yes.”
As they moved into the bedroom, Evelyne took a seat in one of the armchairs by the enormous four poster bed. “Hmm. This is what I call dramatic surroundings. Good for a seducing vampire.”
Sophia’s little chuckle tinkled in the room mingling with Tavish’s low laughter.
Such imagination these women have. Alistair rolled his eyes heavenward as they walked out to wait in the adjoining sitting room.
10.34 p.m.
Evelyne rose from the armchair and looked at Alistair, “Please, don’t forget to give her the anti-inflammatory.”
“Be careful tomorrow in the bath. Her stitches can’t get wet. You can wake me up if she needs anything. And, lass,” Tavish turned to Sophia and kissed her on the forehead, “I want you to rest. Have a lie in till lunchtime. In the afternoon I’ll take you to get your X-ray and MRI.”
Sophia’s lips curled up at the other domineering brother and she gave him a military salute, “Yes, sir.”
Tavish smiled at her and accompanied Evelyne out of the room.
Alistair fluffed the pillow that supported her arm and adjusted another to make her more comfortable.
“Feeling better?” he asked as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Yes,” Sophia gave him half a smile that lifted his heart.
“Good. I’ll be right back, mo chridhe. Don’t move from here.” Alistair kissed the top of her head and left his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.
Sophia sighed and looked at the black and gold canopy. She was already feeling relieved. Lighter. She didn’t know if it were the drugs or the talk she’d had with Evelyne. Tavish’s friend was an accomplished psychoanalyst and had greatly eased Sophia’s burden.
“You, Tavish, of all people, should understand how this is not an easy task,” Evelyne frowned at Tavish.
Tavish hung his head, squeezing his eyes in pain, “I know, Evelyne. But unless she let it go, she won’t be able to rebuild her life. You know this better than I do.”
The doctor sighed and put a hand on Tavish’s shoulder. “I do, Tavish, believe me. But I also know how much it hurts and how long it takes to overcome something like what she has been through.”
Evelyne turned to look at Alistair as he came out of the room. “I strongly advise that she calls her therapist as soon as she can.”
“I’ll make sure she does,” he agreed.
“This is absolutely amazing, Sophia. Look,” Alistair’s green eyes were fixed on the rough sea darkened by the thunderous weather. The breaking waves were crashing on the rocks below the road with such force that the water splashed up and soaked the asphalt.
Sophia looked up from her iPhone and gasped. She scooted to the edge of the seat and pushed the intercom to order her driver, “Antônio. Not this way.”
Again and again she repeated the command. But it was useless. The car kept going and the salty sea water started to rise and flood the road.
Sophia pressed down a button and the glass partition came down silently. “Antônio. Turn back, please. You know I don’t like taking this road.”
Sophia screamed soundlessly.
There were two dark-red men on the front seat, wearing all black. Their left hands were missing their ring fingers and they were laughing madly. Although their bodies stiffly faced forwards, their heads gyrated on their necks. Both had the face of the only kidnapper that wasn’t killed. Their eyes were completely black and horns protruded from their foreheads. In unison, they opened their mouths full of sharp teeth and said, “I’ve come back for you, you husband-killer.”
Sophia closed her eyes as they lifted theirs guns. They shot at her four times, but she felt no pain.
She opened her eyes.
The men were smiling happily, gazing at the seat next to her.
Sophia looked too.
Alistair’s green eyes were wide open and his mouth was slack. From four open wounds on his chest, a viscous dark blood poured out like lava from an eruption.
This time, Sophia’s scream came out, loud.
Saturday, April 3rd, 2010.
6.33 a.m.
“Alistair!” Sophia screamed and thrashed in his arms. “NO! NO!”
“Jesus Christ!” Alistair tightened his arms around her, waking up startled. “Easy, easy. You’re safe, Sophia. Everything’s alright; everything’s alright.”
His deep voice entered the haze of pain that was tearing her heart apart and Sophia blinked away the red acrid fog from her eyes, taking in Alistair’s black and golden bedroom as he turned on the bedside lamp. She heaved for air and threw her healthy arm around his neck, hugging him tightly. She buried her face on his chest as her tears soaked his T-shirt and she sobbed, “Oh, Alistair. Oh, Alistair, thank God.”