My Unforgivable, My Unforgettable... (Mafia Romance, 18+)

Chapter Six

Where should I hide. There is nowhere to hide, nowhere to go! Fuck! The door swings open, and in, walks an infuriated Psycho. His steps are slow, intimidating, purposely to scare me shitless, and my body can't help but give in. The look in his eyes, the gleaming silver-blue, causes my heart to hammer in my chest.
"Who gave you the right to come into this room, and what were you looking for?"

"Nothing," I speak as I attempt to walk past him.
My body is pinned against the walls, a sharp pain puncturing my entire back.
"I'll ask again. Who gave you the authorization to walk into this room, and what were you looking for Luna?" He questions, his one palm clutching my wrists, and pinning them firmly above my head, while the other palm, presses a gun against my abdomen area.

"I was...I wanted to clean the room. It's part of my duty, no?" I try to reason, head facing my side, with my eyes tightly shut.
"Don't lie to me. I hardly trust you."
"You don't trust anyone Psycho, and I'm not lying to you!"
Long moments of fleeting silence pass bye, and I finally open my eyes and turn my head to face him. Oh my heavens! What is...

"Your nose and eyes Psycho! They are bleeding," I state, eyes bulging at the sight.
He jerks his arms away from my wrists, gun making contact with the floors beneath, as he feels the bloody tears coming from his eyes. He suddenly stambles, falls on his knees, then clutches his chest as he groans out loud.
"Psycho? Psycho, lemme help you."

"Stay away from me! Don't fucking touch me!"
What is seriously wrong with this human? He knows that he needs my help, yet is too egotistical to let me help. I ignore his command, bend over, and support his one arm around my shoulders, pulling him to his feet. The blood from his nose flows profusely, as well as the bloody tears.
"Bloody hell!" I exclaim, pushing the doors open with my hip.

It takes all my energy to help his weak form down the halls, and into his room, but I manage. I rest him against his bed, another groan escaping his throat, as I work to flip the switch.
"What do I do Psycho? Medication?"
"Bathroom cabinet! Top shelf, medicines!" He strains to explain, and I dash into his bathroom immediately.

Bathroom cabinet, top shelf. I got them! I jolt back to his room, and notice that he's on the floor, his runny bloody nose, and eyes, making a mess. He takes the medicines with shaky hands, as I pour him a glass of water. Once he's popped and downed all the tablets, the bleeding stops almost instantly. Just like that! What is he suffering from? What illness is that?

He gets up from the floors, wiping the blood from his nose and eyes with the back of his hand, then rests himself over his bed, facing away from me. He looks fragile, and his body is still trembling. Food! He needs food!
"I'll be right back," I speak, as I walk towards the door.

He doesn't say anything. Doesn't reply. I don't expect him to anyway.
I walk down the halls, down the stairs, and into the kitchen, grabbing hold of two plates, serving the fried rice and chicken casserole onto each, and placing them onto the tray.

Two minutes later, and I'm back in his room. He hasn't moved an inch, his breathes shallow. Is he asleep? His head is still turned away from the door. He looks so peaceful.
"Psycho, Psycho," I call out, tapping him gently on the back.
"I'm awake, and I heard you call the first time."
Well, how was I supposed to know?

"I brought you something to eat. You need to regain your energy."
"Why?"
"Huh? Why what?"
"Why are you helping me, even though some minutes back, a gun was resting against your abdomen?"
"Because I'm not like you Psycho. I have a heart," I calmly respond, resting the tray next to his now seated figure.

"What did you see in that room?"
"What does it matter?"
"What.did.you.see.in.that.room.
Luna!"
Great, we are back to him yelling at my face.
"Portraits; a man and woman holding onto each other, another young lady frowning at the camera," I reply, sitting on the chaise lounge next to his bed.

"I'll clean your carpet tomorrow," I state, staring at the stain with furrowed brows.
How in hell, will I be able to get that stain to come off? I want to groan, but don't give myself the pleasure.
"Did Catherine cook this?"
"Yes, yes she did," I reply, eyes narrowing into slits.
"You can leave. You are dismissed."
"What?"
"You didn't hear me the first time, or my speech wasn't coherent enough for you to comprehend?"

I can't believe this guy! No thank you? No acknowledgement that I actually helped his dying ass? Nothing! Oh, I thought I hated him before, but now, the level of hatred I have for him, is not even a word in the English language, or in any other language for that matter!
"You know what Psycho, your ungrateful, bossy, fithy attitude, will cost you something or someone important."

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