The Price of Protection

Chapter 39~ Don't Make Promises You Can't Keep

Marius:

     I was told that the sedative I received knocked me out for nearly an entire day, but I woke stitched up and bandaged. Every wound had been treated and the pain was bearable enough that I told our personal Doctor that I didn't want to take painkillers unless I couldn't handle it, and couldn't function with the pain. He seemed to think that was ridiculous but didn't argue since he is paid well to serve our family the way he is told to.

     Céline and Quinn are both still sleeping. Or on whatever type of recovery coma they're currently experiencing. They're breathing on their own, both with constant IVs and vital checks. The doctor and his team treated their injuries. When I told him to leave the report of all the injuries on my desk. It was the first time I'd ever seen him hesitate at one of my requests.

     "I don't think that will be beneficial to you," he suggested.

     "I wasn't asking," My voice left no room for an argument, so he didn't.

     Now I'm sitting here, after just having gone over the list. I've experienced a long list of emotions since starting to read it, even pausing a couple of times. Typically, violence doesn't bother me very often anymore, but knowing that these were done to them, to her. First, and most obvious, rage. But after that-- anguish, regret, guilt, fear, fury, loss at the experience I can never remove from her memory-- so much sadness. My face is wet with tears I'm trying not to acknowledge. She was hurt for me. She was hurt because of me. And still, she came back for me in that blasted ballroom. She had passed out lying on my arm. I was already in pain and mentally strained, it was the first time I remember ever emitting an audible cry of grief when I realized she had stopped breathing entirely. Andre had been there instantly and had to get her heart beating again so that our medical team could make it in time to get her stable. 

     The sudden knock at the door is a relief. "What?"

     "It's Remi. I came to see how you were doing."

     "Come in."

     The door doesn't make a sound as he enters and shuts it softly behind him. Nor does he speak as he comes to sit across from my desk in one of the velvet lined chairs.

      "Turns out you'll be in my employ a bit longer, hope that doesn't disappoint you," My dry attempt at humor doesn't work. The empty look in his eyes is as heavy as the emptiness I feel.
"How was she when you found her?"

     "Stronger than I would've been. 

     Releasing a frustrated air, I mutter under my breath,  "Pour l'amour de la merde," just imagining how scared they must've been while trying to get out...

     "Did you read the report of what was in the house?" He inquires cautiously.

     Shaking my head, I stare at the closed file on my desk. "I only just read the extent of their injuries."

    His eyes drop to the file, "May I?" I hum in approval. He leans in to snatch it off the desk and begins scanning the page. His forehead creases, brows pulling tightly together until his face is contorted into an uncontrollable grimace and tears line his eyes. He shuts the file before finishing it with angry shuddering breaths. "How will they recover from that?"

     "One of his guards said that it was every 30 minutes, the list of various weapons they used is on the last page." My fingers wave in the direction of the report but he drops it back on the desk like it's stung him.

     "I don't want to know," he says quickly. "Only if they ever want to tell me, otherwise....I would feel like I was invading on their privacy."

     "After they were carried out half naked, beaten, and unconscious, I would assume it's a little late for privacy."