In Too Deep

Forty Two

•
•
•

They said she survived.

They said they didn't know how she was lucky to survive, but she did. Apparently, when she fell off the edge, she didn't hit the ground. No, the wind must have pushed her to land on the second-floor platform. It was a miracle. That was what they called it. Even though the height of her fall wasn't critical, she still hit her head.

Keenan didn't survive. He fell all the way down, breaking all the bones in his body. He died on impact. He wasn't as lucky as her.

They said she was unconscious throughout her time at the hospital, but she didn't tell them she was half-conscious. She didn't tell them the times she felt the bed dip or she swore she felt her sheets moving and a hand on her arm. She didn't tell them she could hear distant voices, a broken voice. There were times she could feel and hear better. There were moments she wanted to open her eyes or move her fingers enough to call him out.

Vicious.

He had been there by her side. They called him her boyfriend. They said she was lucky again, that he hadn't left her side for more than an hour. She had bruises and a concussion. He had asked every single question every time the doctor came in. He was talked through every process and he was there through everything, monitoring them to keep her alive. They said he feared she was going to die, and there was a time when he had stayed awake all night to make sure the machine was still beeping. That she was still breathing.

They said they could hear him calling out to her, whispering, and begging her to wake up. She wished she could tell them she knew that. Vicious had been there with her. He would slide in the covers with her and cradle her. He would hold her through the night and every other night. One time, she could swear she heard every word perfectly in her ears, and other times, she could swear she had been delirious. Nevertheless, it had been what had urged her to keep fighting to stay alive.

"I love you," she had heard him say in a broken whisper. He was laying on his side. His breath had warmed the side of her neck. His arm was thrown over her stomach. "Please, wake up. I don't want to lose you. Please." He would hug her and kiss her cheek, saying those words over and over again.

Other times, he would chuckle and kiss her lips, her forehead, then he would bare his soul to her. "I think I fell in love with you the first time I gave you a gun that wasn't loaded and you pulled the trigger on me. What was it I said after that? You got some balls in you, darlin'. I was hella impressed, Nova, and it was that moment I knew I wasn't going to let you go."

The first time he felt her move, just her fingers moving, she heard the doctor and nurses rushing in. The second time she moved, she felt his lips against her own. That had been a different kiss. In all of Vicious' kisses, that one had howled at her soul. When she attempted to grab him, she couldn't.

When she had woken up, he was gone.

They said she had been in a coma for a month. Jess came to visit. Nova told her everything, but Mario had already beaten her to it. She was angry at Nova,  and she didn't think she could forgive her for using her daughter. Jess had left after that and stopped picking up her calls or texts.

Vicious didn't come back either. She had waited in her hospital bed, but he never showed up. A nurse had wheeled her to Grayson's room. He was getting better. He was improving a lot, they said.

By the time Nova was discharged, the only thing on her mind was Vicious. The times she had been in the hospital, she had already made up her mind. She was going to love Vicious unconditionally. She was going to be with him, and she would prove her love to him every single day until he could trust her again. If she had to beg and crawl, she would. She loved him in her whole heart. He was the one who occupied it and owned it, her Ghost.

Pain was what welcomed her. Vicious' warehouse was cleaned up. Not a single trace was left on sight. Everything had been cleaned and emptied. Panicked, she went to the other spots, but the result was the same.

Nova didn't know panic and desperation until she went to his house and found it empty. No pieces of furniture. Nothing. The only thing left was a box in the center of his living room. When she opened it, she burst into tears. She had cried, clutching the half-burnt little crowns he had given her.

She was cut off. She had been cut off.

Vicious was gone.

All his contacts, the people she had met with him were gone. The person she eventually found was Hunt, and he hadn't been happy to see her. He chased her away with a shotgun and a threat. If she ever came in front of him again, he would shoot her. Nova guessed in their line of work, forgiveness was not an option. She knew the only reason she was left alive was because of Vicious. Otherwise, Hunt would have killed her the moment he saw her.

It wasn't until all the doors to finding Vicious or anything remotely about him were closed on her. He was really gone. He left her. He left her with his love. He left her with guilt and an aching heart.

He left her with a broken heart.