Hospital of Hell

Eighteen

Scarlett

I sit at the bar with a drink in my hand. I have already had three, my need to drink slowly fading as I swirl the liquid around in its glass.

I've been trying to wrap my head around the two men. Every day we have seen one another, every encounter I have seen of him in general. I consider every explanation possible, but nothing seems to add up.

It brings up an entirely different array of emotions as well. Have I actually unknowingly been sleeping with two different men?

But the thought just seems so abstract. They have the same scars, even placed in the same spots. How is that even possible? Was my bipolar theory really just driven by Axton Taikyn taking the roll of fucking Hanna Montana? And who in the hell does he think he is? How can one simply allow a woman to sleep with an entirely different man than who she consented to? So many questions I cannot seem to answer.

The shittiest part is I'm not even sure who to talk to. There has to be a reason that the twins are sharing one singular life, and I am not trying to lose mine by outing them to anyone, including Saraphine.

I shake my head, trying to free myself of my ongoing pestering thoughts. The glass is empty within seconds and before I know it I'm ordering another one.

"Shocker seeing you here," a semi-slurred voice comes from beside me as the once empty bar seat if filled with Cameron's nagging presence.

"I'm not in the mood," I groan out, trying my best to shew him away.

"Me neither." He sighs. We sit there in what one could consider silence, but the loud music and other people's conversations flood the void. I turn to glance at him, not as shocked as I thought I would be to see the rims of his eyes red and puffy.

I give in to my soft side. "Wanna talk about it?"

My eyes widen as the mafia man lets out a small sob, placing his head on the nasty bar top. I'm not sure what to do. A man of his status doesn't usually breakdown like this unless he's been shot, especially in public at that.

"He is, or was, my brother-in-law. Miguel was. Married my sister six years ago. Treated her like a fucking princess. Don't get shit twisted, the man was a cold-hearted killer. He had no feelings, showed no remorse for anyone except her. It was such an admirable trait, one I pray I gain. One of the best in the business," Cameron wipes his face clear of tears, smiling through his excruciating pain. "We grew up together, trained together. Every milestone in our lives we achieved together or close-by. Given the chance I would've taken the bullet, I swear I would have. He was always a better man than me."

"I don't think my sister will ever recover." He sighs, his brows coming together. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. Just been a long day." He shoots back his liquor.

"Don't apologize," I shrug his apology off. I know the feeling of having little to no one to talk too. For a man in his position, sadness is seen as a vulnerability. It kind of breaks my heart to see him drowning himself in his sorrow rather than being surrounded by friends and family who can help him cope. "I've got time to listen," I smile softly. "Next drink is on me."

"You don't have to do that, but I appreciate it," he sends me a soft smile in return.

We sit there for another half hour, enjoying our drinks and conversing about anything that will get our minds off our real life problems. I got to learn a lot more about him, including how adamant he was about not joining the mafia as his father forced him to. He ultimately had decided that this was the only way he could find a successful and steady wealth. I learned about his life growing up as the only brother to three sister. Somehow we even got into the topic of his first kiss.

By the end of it I am a bit passed tipsy and we're both laughing our broken hearts away.

"Axton called me, you know," he changes the subject and even in my drunken state I freeze a bit. "Don't worry, I didn't tell him you were here. I saw you when you walked in, I was upstairs," he hums, giving me the side eye.

"Mhm, what did he say?" I avoid eye contact at all cost, unsure if even he knows that his best friend and boss lives a double life.

His voice drops to barely a whisper. "He told me you met Amir." Amir. A face to a name. The questions from earlier roll back into my head. I'm not curios as to which one Amir is.

"That is one way of putting me walking into him and his fucking doppelganger having a screaming match. I thought the fucker was crazy, arguing with himself until I rounded the corner and bam! Two of them half-naked. Lord only knows which one, or both, that I have been fucking," the liquor causes me to ramble on, my face feeling warm.

"I can only imagine the thought that ran through your head. Two of them crazy fuckers was enough for me. I don't know how I'd react if I walked in to a situation like that," Cameron gets us another shot. "But how are you feeling about it?"

"What do you mean? I know nothing other than that there are two of him, and apparently the other one's name is Amir." I scoff. Anger suddenly floods my heart and mind.

"I think, I think you should hear them out," his words have started to fully slur together and I know I'm not far behind him. Once I stand it will all hit me like a ton of bricks. I hate that I drink all my liquor sitting and then try and stand up like I am tough shit

"I'll think long about it," I am full of shit. I want answers and I want them now. I want the full story and the full truth of whatever the hell we've had going on.

Cameron just starts laughing, his body wobbling a bit on the bar stool.

"What in the hell is so funny?" A scowl rests on my face, or at least I think I'm scowling. Maybe I'm just frowning. Who knows.

"You, Star. We don't know each other that well, but call me a fortune teller 'cause I can read your future," he snickers once more.

"You think so?" The 'o' slurs out a bit longer than it should.

Cameron grabs my hand, facing my palm towards him. "Hm, I see-" he runs his finger across my skin with no pattern, "-Scarlett with not one, but two Taikyn Don's who act as one. Mhm, okay, what else, uh, yes, and I see you going through hell with Axton because he is a pain in my ass."

I pull my hand away from him, crossing my arms. "I want a refund, you are a shitty fortune teller."

"Hey, what can I say, I have got a gift from God." The smile on his face looks much better than the sadness that has lingered on it all day.

"You'd be good for them," Cameron says as he pulls his phone out to send a text. I bet he sends a text of jumbled letters, seeing as he's drunk as hell.

"Both of them?"

"I mean, you've had them both thus far, so yes, both of them," he says it like it's normal.

A comfortable silence falls around us once again as we pay our tabs. I pick up my phone to call for a ride, the numbers being much more blurred than I anticipated.

"Let's go," a gruff voice breaks the silence. I turn my head to see Matt with a disappointed look on his face to Cameron.

"We have to take my friend home too," Cameron barely makes out. "Star here is just as drunk as I." He declares.

Matt looks to me and his eyes widen slightly. "This is the friend you need me to take home? The Don's girl?"

"I am not anyone's girl, thank you very much. I am an independent woman," I debate as I try and stand up. My feet must've moved faster than the rest of me, the room spends as I feel myself crashing towards the floor. Independent my ass.

Matt grabs me before I face plant, cursing under his breath. "The fuck did you get me into, Cameron."

The three of us stumble towards Matt's car as he holds most of my body weight up for me. The rest of the night doesn't resonate with my mind, eventually the world just turns to black.