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When I awoke, I was in my bed, alone. The room was soaked in sunlight, and I felt warm. I sat up slowly, my wrist didn't feel as painful, but my headache and neck felt better. I looked around the room; no more blankets or pillows on the chair. Did he leave me here alone? For how long? I caught myself mid-thought and shook my head; why did I care? He, he did this to me. Suddenly I felt my eyes well up, and tears followed.

I sobbed into my hands, holding my head tight and wishing this would be over. This pain of abandonment, the reopened wound my mother left me with, festered and grew as I sat alone in that room. I heard a faint knock on the door. It sounded too soft to be Emmet. I whimpered 'yes' softly, and the door opened. There he stood, in all his glory—the man who broke my wrist and failed to protect me as I fell, as he promised. I felt rage building inside of my stomach. I grabbed the sheets tightly and pulled them over my head, hiding my face from him. I heard the door close, and he stood at the foot of the bed.
"Do I frighten you now?" I shook my head under the covers. Of course, you don't, I thought to myself. I'm scared of this feeling, this deep burning in the depths of my heart every time you speak. I heard Emmet sign as he spoke, "I'm glad Milo. I am sorry. I, I lost control. I don't know what came over me, but I…" his voice trailed off, and I thought he left me again.

I flung the covers off my head and looked for him desperately in the room. He stood, leaning against the door frame and smiled. Bastard, he just wanted me to show him my face. 

"There you are." His face was unusually soft, almost glowing as he looked at me. I felt my cheeks flush and buried my face into the pillows. I heard his footsteps as he crossed the room and knelt beside me. His hand reached for my head, and as he stroked my hair, my body became hot and trembled. He chuckled in his throat, that sincere laugh only I've heard. "Milo, you have no idea how worried I was? How long you've been in a coma?" I turned my face toward him and shook my head. He let out another deep sigh. "It's been almost six months since you fell into a coma." 

I lifted myself onto my knees and looked at him, blank. Had I been in a coma for six months? Six months, what the fuck? How is that even possible? Had it only been two or three days at most? I shook my head in disbelief again, my mouth hung open, and words began to flow. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, s s s six months?" I stuttered. "Fuck, six months, but I only hit my head a little bit?"

"Our doctor said you had severe fatigue, and the fall caused your brain to haemorrhage. You, you could have…" his voice became trapped in his throat, and he struggled to speak. 

"I should have died." My voice was angry, falling from my tongue like knives. Emmet slumped beside me and let out a whimper.

"Don't say that, Milo. Just don't; I don't know what I would have done if you had?"

"What do you mean?" My rage was bubbling to the surface, "You would have been just fine! You don't even know me!" I screamed at him. My eyes began to water from the anger I felt inside. I clenched my fists and pushed my body towards him, punching him in the chest so often that it felt like I would bore a hole in him. Emmet sat back against the windowsill and held my thighs. I sat in his lap, hitting him repeatedly, crying and screaming into his chest, and he let me. He let me punch him with my little strength and yelled at him.

"I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU! WHY DIDN'T YOU LET ME DIE?"

He stroked my head softly and sighed. "JUST LET ME DIE YOU, YOU MONSTER!" I felt my words falling on deaf ears. He wasn't even listening to me! I took my hands and grabbed his cheeks, tightly squeezing them and pulling his forehead to meet mine.
"YOU LEFT ME! YOU ABANDONED ME, I WOKE UP, AND YOU WEREN'T HERE! YOU LEFT ME, YOU LEFT M…" my words fell from my lips, and I lost all my strength. I collapsed in his lap, repeatedly crying for him just to kill me. He held me tight; I felt his body tense around me like a snake around prey.

Why did I say that? I didn't care that he wasn't here. He did this to me! He, he, broke me, broke my wrist all because I kissed him? My head was swimming with thoughts, and I couldn't move. Emmet just held me as I cried in his arms. He didn't let go of me for a moment, and whenever he felt like I was trying to escape, he held me tighter.
"Why? What did I do for you to hurt me so bad?" I asked, whimpering and crying. He loosened his hold on me only for a moment and pulled my face to his. He was weeping. His tears trickled down his cheeks, but he smiled. I looked deep into his eyes; those grey, hollow pits somehow shined when he cried. "Because I fell in love with you the night I saw you. I can't explain it any other way." 

I pushed myself away from his face and sat back in awe. This man, this utterly terrifying Bratva boss who stood like a towering pillar above other men, both in stature and status, fell for me? I couldn't help what slipped out of my mouth, "You're a fool", I scoffed. I saw his face twinge with pain, but he sighed. He pushed me from his lap and left me in a heap on the floor. He walked to the door. His strides were long and lingering in my mind. Was this the last time I might see him, I thought? I followed his path with my gaze. Just as he stopped at the door, I thought he would turn and call out to me, but he simply turned the handle and left. A sudden wave of disbelief washed over me, and I screamed again. I began crying and sobbing on the floor. What the fuck was happening to me? Why did my chest hurt so much? I clutched it and tried to push my heart hard enough that it would stop beating. I sat on the floor for hours, trying to escape this feeling. The sun started to set over the city skyline when I finally lifted my head. I raised my hand to my face and wiped my cheeks. They were soaked, and so was the shirt I was wearing from tears. I felt strange, almost like I was floating. When was the last time I cried so deeply that it shook me to the core? I lifted myself with help from the bed and slowly stumbled to the bathroom. I looked at the tub and began running the water. I began undressing in front of the full-length mirror. I had been in a coma for six months. I looked at my body. It was as if I was a skeleton with flesh hanging onto each bone. My ribs were protruding from my chest, and my hip bones were exposed; I was a carcass that had been chewed of all its meat by wild dogs. I looked at my wrist. The bones were healed, and there was no sign of bruising. I touched it softly, feeling the weight of my fingers on my skin again. My hair had grown while I was asleep. It was shaggy, untidy and needed a cut. I pushed it up out of my face and looked deeply at myself. I scoffed. He fell in love with me at first sight; what a joke. This barely functioning 15-year-old boy, with no muscle mass, no supple, feminine breasts, shaggy ashen hair, a child who throws temper tantrums and has a scar on my upper lip from being hit in the face with a glass by Ho Ming years ago, these soulless eyes, void of colour or emotion. He's out of his mind. I snapped back to reality and walked to the tub. The water was scalding hot, but I got in anyway. If Emmet, no, we're not close, why did I call him that? If the Tsar didn't let me die, I'd go out on my terms. The water burned my skin as I sat down. It felt like the flesh was pealing from my bones. I screamed in pain, but I had to endure it. It was temporary. All of this was temporary. Whatever attachment I felt towards the Tsar was just me wishing for someone to care for me and keep me safe, and even he couldn't do that. I screamed once more as I sank lower and lower into the rising water. The steam was thick. It felt as if I was suffocating in the dry air. Within a second, my submerged head was ripped from the water. I gasped and coughed as water splashed all over the bathroom.

My mind was blank, but I could feel someone shaking me violently, cold water running over my body. I couldn't see who it was clearly at first, but I felt my body drop when they called out my name. "Milo!" Their voice was urgent and desperate. I thought maybe Emmet had come back to watch me die, but it was Patrick as my eyes focused. "Patrick?" I croaked. "Patrick, why are you here? Just let me die." 

"What are you talking about, Milo? I'm here to help you!"

"Help me?" I clicked my tongue at him, "Help me out by letting me die, please?" I pleaded with him. "I can't do this. I can't be abandoned again; just let me die." I felt my head tip backwards and my body being lifted from the ground. I began to shiver. When did I get so cold? 

"You're an absolute fool, Milo. How could you say that?" Patrick's tone was bitter. I felt a tinge in my chest; I hurt him. He put me down on the bed, my body shivering from the night air kissing my skin, and grabbed a towel to dry me. I sat in a daze, my feet dangling from the edge of the bed as Patrick carefully and gently dried and dressed me. I felt sick.

What was I doing? Why was Patrick here? Will he be harmed if The Tsar finds him with me, especially like this? Patrick stood in front of me with a warm coat. I slowly stood and placed my arms inside of it. I could feel Patrick's chest rising and falling behind me; his breathing was shallow, as if he was nervous. I felt caught up in that moment and let myself fall into him. He caught me in his arms and held me tight. His head rested on my shoulder, and he dug his chin into my neck. I could feel his breath on my skin, giving me goosebumps. His lips found my ear, and I could feel the heat of his breath as he whispered to me,
"Don't you dare die on me, you hear?" His arms held me so tight that I felt the air stop in my throat. He, he cared for me too? What is with all of these idiotic men? I felt him loosening his hold on me. I turned my body and held his chest when he did, grabbing tight to his shirt. I pulled my face to his neck and felt the blood rushing around my body. My heart throbbed, and I let my lips trace the beating vein on his neck. I felt the blood coursing through his body. It made my lips tingle. What was happening to me? 
I guess six months in a coma makes you a little crazy.

I felt my hand searching for Patrick's waist, gliding freely to the top of his belt. I ran my hand across the band of his pants, touching it gently. His skin felt hot under my fingertips, and his breathing was getting faster and faster as my hand got closer and closer to his belt clasp. I wanted to undo it and search across his skin with my teeth, tongue and lips. I wanted to find every spot that created pleasure for him. I wanted him to take me, make me feel something, anything other than this horrific guilt and pain in my heart. I felt his muscles tighten as I reached his pants button and began undoing it with my fingers. Still attached to his neck, my lips felt his blood burning as it raced under my touch, making me feel so powerful. I felt his hand catch mine right as I was about to unbutton his pants. I looked at his face. He was flush and panting. His hand tightened around mine, and he pushed me away. He curled over, holding his chest.
"Are you trying to kill me, Milo" his breathing was panicked and frantic. I stood there in disbelief at what I had just tried to do.

I was becoming an animal, just like Ho Ming. I fell to my knees and let out a gasp. I covered my mouth and shook my head,
"I am so sorry, Patrick, I. I don't know what's wrong with me?" I had hoped this was a horrible dream. I would wake up and be in bed with Ho Ming, and none of these people would have ever walked into my life. I felt Patrick's hand on my back; gently, he patted me and sighed, "Look, it's not as if I don't want to be around you, but I can't let this kind of thing happen again, okay?" He placed a hand on my shoulder and pulled me to my feet. "My job is to watch out for you and train you in the business until you're old enough for the Tsar."

"Till I'm 16, right?"

"Yeah, 16", he nodded, "and once you become of age, the Tsar will take care of you in every way possible." I stood looking at Patrick, hoping he would fix my problems, but instead, I just created more problems for him. "Look, starting tomorrow; I'll be teaching you about the business and the basic skills the Tsar wants from you. If that's okay with you?" I looked deeply into his eyes and nodded. He reached a hand out to my head and petted me softly. "First, you need to eat something, okay? I'm going to escort you down to the dining hall, but I have to go and tell The Tsar about this incident" I grabbed his chest, my eyes welling with tears, "Please, don't. Don't tell him what I tried to do to you. He'll kill you!"

"I was going to leave that part out. I just meant the whole trying to kill yourself thing." I let go of his shirt and hung my head in shame. Hearing those words spill from Patrick's lips made my stomach turn. He lifted my chin to meet his face and smiled. I felt a sudden sense of calm. "It'll all be okay. The Tsar may come and visit you later but don't worry. He cares for you. He…" Patrick began to trail off as he looked around the room. He walked over to the side of the bed, where the notebook had been. He picked it up in his hands and brought it to me. "Before we go, take this with you. I think it will explain everything better than I could." I took the notebook and held it to my chest. What was inside of this? The suspense was killing me, consuming my every thought that I hadn't even noticed I'd left the bedroom and was sitting at the dining table. The smell of freshly cooked food snapped me back to reality and in front of me was a steak dinner. My mouth, salivating at the aromas alone, hung open. I looked at Patrick, who stood across from me. He nodded toward the food and mouthed 'eat'. And with that, I began to eat for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The food slid down my throat into the hollow pit of my stomach, every morse I savoured.

I looked up to see Patrick had gone. He must have excused himself to see the Tsar. My mind couldn't focus on that. All I could think about was the meal in front of me. I had almost forgotten all about the notebook. I reached for it after eating to ensure I didn't mess up the pages. I hadn't written in this book yet, but somehow it felt heavier. I sat back in the dining chair as the table was cleared and opened the notebook.  

End V