The Mafia King's Thief

Care

Elayne's POV

"Why? Why you f*****g do that?" Aida asks, and before I know it, she lands a ghastly slap on my cheek, and that alone makes me so shocked. Shocked to my toes that I freeze. I also stop breathing for as long as I freeze because that on its own was out of the blue.

I forget that I have the man I stabbed on the floor and I land a slap on Aida's face. She isn't as shocked as me, but she flattens her palm along the cheek that I slapped and she rubs before pushing me to the ground and punching me in the face. I've always known that Aida was far from normal, but she's also very f*****g immature. I just figured that out now.

Alessio is groaning and she doesn't even care. I push her off of me, kick her stomach. The action makes her think and it's as though my brain begins to function like a f*****g computer. Different ideas begin to pop up in my head, but I just need one. The perfect one to get this thing going. Before Aida and I fought, Alessio was supporting himself against the wall, but after I pushed her off of me, I see that he's now completely on the floor. There isn't much time left.

Alessio, obviously, is heavier than me in all types of ways. I move to where he's lying on the floor and reach for his pocket. Digging into it, I pull out the car keys I find in it, and run outside to see what car he has.

It's an SUV–not bad. I will hopefully be able to handle this one. Although it's been a while since I drove, it's not that big of a deal.

I pull the Rolex from his wrist and pocket it–you can take the girl out of the village, but you can never take the village out of the girl. If I continue to get chanced, I'd keep stealing. I really do not care if it's what got me into this situation in the first place. It's funny how I considered stopping a while ago, but I've gotten my senses back and I will not stop. Will never stop.

Aida is still crying on the floor, and I'll be damned if I actually have a care in the world. It's simple. She got in my way, and I put her in her place. Where she f*****g belongs.

I look At Alessio for about ten seconds.

"f**k it." I mumble as I begin to pull him with the palm that's unaffected. Whatever happens happens. I have to see to the end of this because I started it. It's simple, I'll just mind my business next time. I feel like I'm very good at landing myself in trouble. Nobody asked me to go and steal from this man, and I decided that it was what I wanted for my twenty-eighth birthday, and now I'm stuck. Instead of minding my business and just doing my s**t, I ended up stabbing. Like seriously, can I ever stop getting myself in trouble.

As I pull him close to the door, his groans and pants increase and I have a little bit of sympathy. To be honest, all of this is scary. Why shouldn't I even have sympathy? He's a complete d**k–no doubt about that, but he caused it. Something as simple as my name shouldn't be hard for him. Wait a minute, have I stopped to ask myself if he did all of this intentionally and was just trying to get on my nerves? I really need to work on having a little bit of patience, and not just doing whatever evil my

brain thinks it is best because I always end up regretting it.

I'm able to pull him outside, but what I need now is help to get him into the car because there no way I can lift him up, the man is huge. Being able to pull someone doesn't require half the strength to lift the person. Let's even say I'm successful in lifting him and getting him into the car, all of my energy will be drained and I'll be panting instead of getting him to the nearest hospital.

"Ah, f**k," He says when my hand comes in contact with that stabbed palm. s**t.

"Just shut up and let me work, okay? Enough damage has been done."

I don't know how it happens, but I'm able to get him into the car and that has me shocked. I run to the driver's seat since it's a matter of urgency. It has in fact become a matter of life and death. If this man doesn't get urgent care and professional help within the next hour, he might as well be dead. The thought of him dying has me wanting to pee in my shorts. I look crazy since it's still early in the morning. They will suspect something went down, but that is for them.

As I start the car and the engine rears, I begin to think of all the possible lies that I can tell when they ask what happened, and how the injury occurred. Obviously, they'll be able to tell it's a stab, who wouldn't? But those medical practitioners can be a little nosy, and I am not the best when it comes to lieing.

My brain can't click on any. f**k this.

I've been driving for the past five minutes with a bleeding man in my car, and not one single hospital comes in sight. I begin to have scary thought that he'll end up dying in the back seat. Like the coward I am, I start thinking of ways to escape even though I can never be free. I'm stuck here, except I want to move illegally which can cost me my life.

Finally, after twenty minutes of driving, a small hospital comes into sight. I try so many times to pronounce the name, but it ends up being futile.

Rolling my eyes and getting out of the car, I run into the hospital–I don't even park the car properly, but f**k that. Life is on the line here.

"I have a bleeding man in the car! Can I get some help, please?" I yell and a nurse looks at me like I've lost my mind. I do look like someone who's been going through it, but I beg to differ, I'm very much okay. I just stabbed a man in the palm today because he pissed me off. Nothing that bad.

"Please, I need help!" I yell again and she just shrugs. I assume she doesn't understand the language. Hissing, and cursing, I go outside to get the bleeding man. While I'm successful in getting him out of the car, he falls on top of me and I cry. I'm certain that if I had any strength in me before it happened, he'd have sucked everything out as he landed on me. It's a big hassle trying to get him off of me.

I cry and yell for him to get off of me, but we both know how that will turn out. It's like telling a dead man to get up that there's still hope. Medicine after f*****g death.

"Get up, please." I hate that I'm crying, but I can't seem to control the tears that are falling from my eyes. It really does hurt. Being stuck in this whole mess when all I really want to do is enjoy myself. This is so f****d up. I sort of hate myself. I make a mental note to myself, if I ever get out of this, I'll live a simple life. I've stolen enough to get me through life, and if I feel like trying something new, I'll learn it and s**t.

It's as though God hears my silent prayers and grants me my wish. He gives me a little strength to get him off me.

I pull him with the little energy in me into the hospital, and that's when it dawns on the nurse.

"Cosa gli è successo? Medico!" Her tone makes it sound as though she first asked a question, and then yelled something. I'm guessing that the last statement she made was 'Doctor'. I'm no genius, but I guess it isn't so hard to point that out.

Translation - What happened to him? Doctor!

She runs to come and join me in pulling him. We successfully pull him to a chair, and with combined effort, we’re able to help him sit up.

“Aspettami qui, vado a chiamare il dottore.” She tells me in a reassuring tone. Honestly, I do not know what to say since I didn’t get what she said, but if I’m to guess, I’ll say she’s going to get a doctor.

Translation -Wait for me here, I’ll go and call the doctor.

She disappears into the hallway, and I’m left alone with this bleeding man. He isn’t panting or breathing heavily anymore which scares the hell out of me, but one look at the subtle rise and fall of his chest tells me he is still alive, albeit barely.

A few moments later, she returns with a short and bulky man. The nurse isn’t tall, but she’s taller than the doctor which goes on to show that he really isn’t blessed with height. If Alessio can miraculously stand right now, he’d be above him by about ten inches which is almost a foot.

“Hi, I don’t speak Italian, please. I don’t want any miscommunications going on between us. It’s why I deemed it fit to inform you now.” I say as the doctor takes a look at him. Looking around, I can tell they do not have the best medical facilities, and one thing that messes up the whole situation is the fact that it’s the only hospital around the area, and it took me a while to get here. Most likely, there is a bigger hospital somewhere, but all thanks to Alessio for being a dickhead and not getting one of us a reasonable phone that has internet connection and stuff.

I’m sure as hell that if I’d had something like that, getting to a hospital wouldn’t be too difficult, but that’s what you get when you have a husband that thinks he knows it all up in that head of his.

“What happen to him?” The doctor asks, his English not too fluent, but at least the information is conveyed.

“ It was an accident, obviously. Haven’t you got like a stretcher or something to take him to a ward? This is an emergency.” I point it out for them as if it isn’t all that obvious already.

"Giana, vai a chiamare l'altro personale così possiamo portarlo in reparto." He says, and the nurse is running into the hallway. My gaze is focused on my husband, and even though on most times, I don't wish him well, I have just one hope now. One prayer, and that is for God to make him survive. I was pissed at him. He successfully dodged all of the items thrown at him. I didn't mean for the knife to skewer into his palm like that. I know I'm not the best of people, but I'm not heartless like that.

Translation - Giana, go and get the other staff so we can get him to the ward.

The nurse returns with a few people–about six. With their aid, Alessio is carried into one of the wards. I’m told to stay back because they want to figure out the severity of the situation before looking for a solution.

“He was stabbed, okay? The knife prodded through his left hand. That’s how bad it is. There’s no need to access any f*****g thing. Just save his life because that is what I brought him here for. I yell at them, but they’ve all disappeared. I run to the ward he was taken to and start banging the door even though I know that it’s very wrong of me to do that. There is a f*****g patient in there, and I’m literally disrupting the peace. I can get arrested and detained for whatever it is that I am doing.

“Open the door. Open the f*****g door, now!” I command as though my voice is supposed to miraculously scare them and make them open the door.

I get ignored and when I walk back to the waiting chair, my stomach rumbles. I look through the windows and see that it is almost dawn. Obviously, a lot of time had passed during the whole hospital scene–from the period I brought him in to all that went down before he was eventually taken into the ward for treatment.

I wait patiently for a while and nothing happens. No one comes in and no one goes out which scares the hell out of me. I hope this isn’t some sort of organ harvesting hospital because I’ve heard a lot of stories concerning that topic, and that s**t scares me. I eventually give in to slumber. Someone taps my arms, and I get up immediately.

"He has lose a lot of blood, and we'll need to get blood. Or a blood donor." The doctor that treated him earlier tells me while I look him in the eye. I still haven't recovered from the sleep I was woken from suddenly.

I'm tempted to tell them that I do not have any money, but that will only stop them from continuing the treatment, and so I nod and try to speak, but nothing comes from my mouth. The doctor is standing there, waiting for me to say something, anything at all.

"What do we do, then?" I ask since I've clearly never done anything like this before.

"Are your blood types compatible?" He asks, and that gets me in a daze because I truly do not know.

I stand there, staring at the doctor.

"Who is this man to you?" I get asked another question since it wasn't that convenient to answer the previous one.

"He's my husband." I answer. Shock is written all over his face. It's more like 'you got married to this man, and you don't even know if your blood types are compatible'

"Look, I know you think I'm crazy and all, but it's not what you think. Just run a test to know if our blood types are compatible or I can donate some blood to him. It's that simple." I say to the doctor.

"We'll need you in the laboratory for the tests, then." He informs me.

"Giana, portala in laboratorio per il test del gruppo sanguigno." He calls, and the nurse comes, rushing out of the ward.

Translation - Giana, take her to the lab for the blood type test.

I honestly can't remember the last time I did a blood type test, and I know it's messed up, but this happens to be one of those times that I pray for something that ideally, I wouldn't pray for. I silently pray to God to let me be able to donate blood to him. I don't know what'll happen after this, but I feel like it'll somewhat make this situation not seem as bad as it is. I threw a knife at him, and he lost so much blood, but I donated to him. You see, it's not that bad.

Giana leads me into the lab and I get told to have a seat.

"Dobbiamo farle un esame del gruppo sanguigno. Per favore, rendilo scattante." Giana tells them and soon, one of the medical laboratory workers comes with disinfectant, cotton wool and a syringe. They tie my hand with some sort of rope and then disinfect the area before they find a vein

The blood is drawn out of my hand and I get told to leave.

Shortly, the test results say that I'm able to donate blood to him, and they don't even waste time. They take the blood from me, and I feel very weak. They tell me that it's time for the transfusion, and then later on, the hand will be treated, stitched and we'll be free to go home.

One thing bothers me, though.

The fact that they haven't brought up any conversation about money. I don't have any, and I don't have access to anyone's account. God willing for Alessio to be fine, we'll have to discuss some things . I know that conversations between us in the past haven't exactly headed in the right direction, but I hope he calms down after everything.

I sleep off when the thoughts get too much, but solutions do not come.