Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
The note slips from my fingers.
Hawk stoops down, picks it up, and reads it.
His jaw clenches.
“I’m being watched,” I say, my voice trembling.
“Fuck…” Hawk races out of Eagle’s room.
He’s gone for a few minutes. I take a closer look at the bouquet, sliding my fingers over the soft petals. Something’s off, though.
And it hits me quickly.
The bouquet, rather than being tied with ribbon, is tied with barbed wire.
Rusty barbed wire.
I pull my hand away quickly, and a drop of blood oozes from my fingertip.
Hawk storms back into the room, his face flushed and contorted with anger. “I couldn’t find the orderly who delivered the flowers,” he says, “and I didn’t look at him too closely. Do you remember what he looked like, Dani?”
I shake my head. “No. The bouquet is so big. I was looking at it, not the guy who brought it.”
“The hospital has cameras, so we can ask to review the footage.” Hawk shakes his head. “But here’s the thing. I asked a nurse. Flowers aren’t allowed in the ICU. Anyone who actually works here would know that.”
Dread surges through me.
“That’s not all,” I say quietly.
“What?”
“Look at this.” I show him the barbed wire.
“Damn,” Hawk says. “You didn’t touch the wire, did you?”
“Not on purpose.” I show him my finger.
“Fuck.” He grabs a paper towel from above the sink and wraps my finger quickly. “When was your last tetanus shot?”
“I’m not sure, but trust me, my father kept me up to date on all vaccines. He didn’t want me catching anything during my…”
“We’re in a hospital. Let’s get you a booster just to be safe.” He sighs. “I suppose at least he did that much for you. Keeping your vaccines up to date.”
I scoff. “Are you kidding? It wasn’t for me. It was for him. A disease would put me out of commission.”
Two Years Earlier…
Chlamydia.
The doctor says I have chlamydia.
So that’s what’s causing all the burning and discomfort.
“What? How?”
“It’s a sexually transmitted infection,” the doctor says. “The good news is that it’s treatable. You’ll need to take antibiotics for about a week. And of course, inform your sexual partners.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.
My father.
He’ll be furious. As for my sexual partners? He’ll get to do that informing. I wouldn’t know how to contact them.
“I understand, Doctor,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I need to tell your father,” the doctor says. “Get dressed, and we’ll talk in my office.”
My father? I got this because one of his associates was infected and gave it to me. I’m only sixteen years old, and I’ve had an abortion already. Now this?
My father can’t force me to entertain his associates while I’m contagious.
He’s going to be angry. Of course he won’t say anything like this in front of the doctor.
No. He’ll play the concerned parent, tell the doctor he’ll give me a talking-to about abstaining from sex, or at least using protection.
His wrath will wait until we’re home.
I dress hastily and a nurse collects me and leads me to the doctor’s office. My father is there, looking stern but not raging.
He’ll save that for later.
The doctor arrives and sits down.
“Mr. Agudelo,” she begins, “Daniela has been diagnosed with chlamydia. It’s a sexually transmitted infection but treatable with antibiotics, which I’m going to prescribe now.”
His face hardens, but he nods, giving nothing away. “Thank you, Doctor, for your prompt attention to my daughter’s health.” He turns to me. “Are you okay, querida?”
Right. Like he cares. He’s never called me querida in my life.
“I’m uncomfortable but otherwise I feel fine,” I say without emotion.
“Good, good.” He smiles.
What a fake.
The doctor clears her throat. “I’ve prescribed a week-long course for Daniela. She’ll need to come back in a month’s time for a follow-up.”
My father nods, his expression unreadable. “All right,” he says, maintaining his calm façade. “Will that be all, Doctor?”
The doctor looks at me and then back at my father. “Yes, that would be all. Please ensure she takes the medication consistently and completes the course.”
The car ride home is silent. The tension is palpable, a storm cloud ready to burst. I sit in the back seat and watch the passing buildings outside. I’m terrified. Terrified of my father’s reaction. Terrified of the punishment that will surely come.
As we pull into our driveway, my father finally speaks. “Go to your room.”
His voice is cold, devoid of any emotion. I nod, clambering out of the car and rushing inside the house. I rush past the kitchen, ignoring the curious glances of our housekeeper.
I retreat to the safety of my room, closing the door softly behind me. I collapse onto my bed, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. I want to cry, to scream, to let out all the anger and sadness.
But I don’t.
My father will come to me.
He will punish me for this, even though it’s the fault of one of his business associates.